


The One Within

by J_Constantine, Lyssandra_Med, orphan_account



Series: Inner Demons [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - No Voldemort, Alternate Universe - No War, Blackcest (Harry Potter), F/F, Found Family, Hat Trick, Hermione Granger Scores a Hat Trick, Hermione is Part of this but it's weird, Incest, Multi, Ritual Magic, Sibling Incest, Strap in, Time Travel, but we're doing it anyways, eventually, like really weird
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:34:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 27,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21907552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/J_Constantine/pseuds/J_Constantine, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyssandra_Med/pseuds/Lyssandra_Med, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The Black Family holds many secrets.Some mundane, others striking.Narcissa should know, stuck in the middle as she is.And now, so does Hermione.--Or; The Voice inside Hermione's head is real. But is it even her head anymore?
Relationships: Bellatrix Black Lestrange/Narcissa Black Malfoy, Bellatrix Black Lestrange/Narcissa Black Malfoy/Andromeda Black Tonks, Hermione Granger/Andromeda Black Tonks, Hermione Granger/Bellatrix Black Lestrange, Hermione Granger/Bellatrix Black Lestrange/Narcissa Black Malfoy/Andromeda Black Tonks, Hermione Granger/Narcissa Black Malfoy
Series: Inner Demons [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1645057
Comments: 62
Kudos: 307
Collections: Time Travel Bellamione





	1. It Begins, Broken & Halting

**Author's Note:**

> This is insanity.
> 
> The best kind of insanity, but still. Dreamed up entirely by the lovely brains of my co-authors, Appended, J_Constantine, & SkipperMcBites

The slow roll of the train as it rocked from side to side. The rails clacking, clicking, _shifting-_

A constant vibration, but muted beneath her. The warmth of heating charms that were spread all around them until the compartments were uniform, but not stifling.

The train lulled Hermione into sleep. Deep, dreamless, and precisely what she needed after a nervous hour spent waiting on the platform. 

Too many hours awake, too many moments where bile pulled and scratched at her oesophagus.

She needed this.

She _didn’t_ need the splitting headache that greeted her when she woke up. The pulse and stab of a truly awful migraine announcing its presence-

_‘Wait-’_

The train was stopped. Quiet. Slowly cooling off now that the charms were unnecessary, no students left to keep warm.

Besides her.

“Fuck-” Hermione lurched off the bench, nearly tripping and stumbling over the edges of her robe when it caught against the latch to the compartment.

_When had she changed?_

No one was there to steady her as she slammed against the wall outside her chosen compartment. No one was there to see her stagger forward. Odd, that.

No one about. No one around. Empty, and quiet.

Alone.

Granted, if she managed to sleep through the others all leaving then this was her fault entirely. Nothing to worry about though; with all the others gone, none could feign closeness, point her out or whisper behind her back. None could wince and shoot pitiful eyes as she clutched at her head, leaked salt from her eyes, or stumbled over articulating what she meant. No one could feign closeness as she fought to prevent the aching pieces of her mind from collapsing back into some form of roaring nothingness. 

This was… _bad._ Not bad enough for her to see Pomfrey, not nearly as bad as the migraines that the Time-Turner had forced her through-

But bad, nonetheless. A gnawing pit that hungered in the matter of her frontal lobe, something living and stalking about the edges of her consciousness with some form of active malevolence. 

Similar to the Time-Turner, then. But not _as_ bad. Not enough for her to seek help.

 **_Nothing_ **_was bad enough for her to seek help._ Even when it hurt.

Besides, it was nothing at all that a simple potion couldn’t fix right up. Or perhaps a night of rest within her own bed would do the trick. The one saving grace was that her hair remained pulled back, all neat and orderly despite the awkward position against the window that she had woken up to. That was a plus, however small.

But she was still late. Late for food, late for Minerva’s announcements, just…

Late.

But honestly, wasn’t that just how she preferred it? Her loneliness had gone from terror to boon, a soothing balm that she could spread beneath in the aftermath of-

Well.

_It._

The solitude was something hard-fast, something steady, something rock solid and immutable; something that would only be dictated or changed by her own choice. It was reassurance in the face of Harry, and then Ronald’s, departure from her life. Loneliness, her own form of salvation and penance-

-Hermione tripped out, one foot colliding with the other, nearly falling gracelessly onto the hard stone floor.

She was _inside_ the Castle. Somehow.

She couldn’t quite remember when she had arrived; between the headache and her thoughts, that moment was lost to her. But she was here, and so that question could wait to another day, or never at all if she preferred. Clearly, she was distracted by multiple things, and the headache would not be ignored. Really, how on earth could one be expected to maintain their thoughts and active attention when their own mind seemed to have decided on revolution?

… When had the doorjambs gotten smaller? She could just about feel the stone arch as she passed beneath it and into a side hall, just low enough that it was obviously unusual. It appeared that Minerva had gone ahead with some further renovations over the summer holidays, probably some menial task that the older woman was using to keep the focus off of her own grief.

No matter. Or rather, nothing urgent about it. It could wait until Hermione had time to visit, perhaps tomorrow or the day after.

She was closing in on her room now, she was quite sure of it, even as her eyes squeezed shut under the total imbalance of pain thudding out across her skull. She could do this, right? Keep her eyes only half-open, only half paying attention, relying on memory alone. It certainly wasn’t that hard to navigate the complexity of the Castle. Yes, it had a tendency to rearrange itself according to some unknown whim, but no, there were patterns that one could pick up and memorize if they bothered to pay any attention to it all.

And Hermione had always been quite good at remaining observant.

\---

Except in this instance, because against all odds she was somewhere else, again, without knowing what route she had taken. She couldn’t remember her steps, the walls, even giving out the password to the House Guardian.

She just… _arrived._

_‘Was the walk always this quick?’_

Maybe… Maybe she had just not paid attention. Surely it could stand to reason that she was tired more than anything, dealing with this headache and the fog wrapping around her mind. No matter though, she was here, and so very ready for a nice few hours of rest. Hermione sighed, pushing the door inwards on hinges that thankfully remained silent.

That was one piece of good news, at least. The doors all being fixed, oiled, made just that little bit less annoying so that they wouldn’t stick of one opened it too fast-

-a hand reached out into the semi-darkness of the space, wrapping around Hermione’s wrist and all but pulling her inside the room until she collided with the owner. The door shut behind her with a muted slam; a charm or two in place to dull noise and sound, now that she realized it. _That_ was why the hinges hadn’t made any noise when she had opened it, _that_ was why she hadn’t even suspected anyone of being in her room. 

With the door shut her only source of light was a fireplace barely burning in the corner of the space. It was small, barely more than lit embers, but enough to give her a general idea of where she was, and what was around her. 

But not _who_ was around her.

Instead, she could only take in that this person had decided to redecorate before pulling Hermione into the room. Instead of the twin-sized bed that she remembered from Prefect Orientation, there was instead an entire fourposter monstrosity placed up against one wall. Instead of her gold and red bedsheets, this new addition was decked in dark green, silken black, and the shimmering of silver that fell down as drapery. Where before she had owned a small bookshelf packed to the brim of titles both Mundane and Magical, there was now a vanity stocked with potions galore, and silvered cases for makeup.

Odd, that.

All of it, actually.

“What-”

The words were never able to properly leave her lips. They couldn’t, not really. Especially couldn’t, seeing as suddenly there was something placed in their way. Something warm, something soft; lips, as fresh as her own. A tongue that traced the outline of her lips, a quiet invitation that took inaction as acceptance, slipping into her mouth and suddenly forcing Hermione into what felt like a blissful calm. The hands that had been attached to her wrists were suddenly moving over her stomach, off to the sides, down to hold and squeeze against her hips and the tops of her thighs in soothing motions that brought a mewl to crawl up her throat.

Gods but this was all so - _wrong, sudden,_ **_good_ ** \- unexpected, but even as she wondered _why,_ she returned the kiss. Battled tongue for tongue, breathed through her nose and damned if she couldn’t say she fought the desire to put a stop to it right then and there. A good choice, something in her complimented, when the body pushed forward yet again. This person, whoever it was, soon had Hermione with her back against the wall and palms flat to ground herself. She melted, heat on heat, so softly pressed and kept tight.

She grew bold after more seconds ticked by between them, pushing forwards and biting down upon a lip before suddenly sucking it into her mouth and roving her tongue across its plump surface.

_Foreign-_

_Exciting-_

**_Different-_ **

Something in her seemed to wake, something that appreciated the sensuality and was now just telling Hermione to get on with it already, to enjoy herself and give in.

**_“Harder-”_ **

The strangled edge of a moan managed to escape past her lips when the warmth of the interloper pulled away to take in air. It was the first instant that Hermione had to truly gaze upon this person, a chance to asses whoever this was.

 _Whatever_ this was.

Hermione could easily say that she was no prude. She was also no stranger to the rather intimate manner of schoolyard courtship that ran amok on Hogwarts grounds. But up until this very point, she had held absolutely no awareness that someone was harbouring any feelings at all for her. Surely her early crushes had been few and far between; Harry, yes she knew he had a _thing_ for her when they were younger. Ronald too had held feelings that he never learned to adequately express, even as he stepped away and waived off his seventh year in favour of service in the Auror Corps. Cho, maybe? Luna _might_ have had a crush, once upon a time, but the younger girl was happily set up with Neville now, so it certainly wasn’t her.

And no other women had ever gone about searching for her in service to some pleasure or frivolities. She _should_ know, after all. Mostly because she would have almost immediately taken them up after the odd offer or two.

So then who in the bloody Hell was-

-the woman before her rushed in again, the press of their bodies leading a flood of warmth to invade Hermione’s belly. She grunted, something soft but much more a moan than anything else, biting at her lip when those hands rose up to her midriff and began to roam. Something slick and warm began to coat the crux of Hermione’s thighs when the woman reached a hand underneath the hem of her dress shirt, fingernails dragging harsh marks across her skin until she could palm Hermione’s right breast.

**_“More-”_ **

That odd sound rang out again, almost a voice, almost full words, so quiet and just barely there at the periphery of her awareness. It was a mystery, one she would quite like to solve.

 _After_ she focused on the sinfully delicious feeling of warm fingers pinching down atop her nipple for all they were worth, an action now wringing pain - _pleasure_ \- from her throat. The gasp she meant to unleash was stifled by the woman joining their lips once again, teeth nipping and tongue pressing. Gods but it was-

One moment. One simple, barely noticed look.

Fleeting. But enough. 

The vanity that was placed across from Hermione was nearly waist high and serviced with a short stool in place of a proper chair. The mirror itself was rectangular, taller up than sideways, and buttressed all around with a dark but patterned wood that appeared to be snakes intertwining with one another.

But the mirror in the centre, silver-backed and polished to a shine-

_Blonde. Blue eyes._

_‘No fucking way.’_

The woman across from her-

 _Black hair, wild curls. Skin so white she_ ** _shined,_ ** _and eyes so dark they were voids-_

**_Beautiful._ **

\---

“Narcissa?”

**_“That’s us, you bloody imbecile.”_ **

_‘Oh? Is it really/ Because I wasn’t quite sure about it, but if_ **_you’re_ ** _positive well then I guess that’s_ **_us,_ ** _seeing as I could have sworn-’_

“...Cissa?” The woman who had her hand up Hermione’s shirt was beginning to look up at her - _them_ \- with something approaching suspicion, or perhaps something akin to mild confusion. Wonder maybe? Or worry?

The look was _something,_ at any rate. And something that Hermione was most definitely not willing to unpack right then and there.

“Cissa? Can you hear me? Hello, anyone in there?” The hand that was up Hermione’s shirt came out, fingernails tip-tap-tapping against the soft skin covering her temple.

Hermione breathed in, steady and deep, trying to swallow back against the absolute desert that her throat and mouth had suddenly become. Gods she was _dry,_ her tongue a useless lump of flesh so thick and heavy now that the woman - **_“Bellatrix.”_ ** \- wasn’t supplying her with saliva.

“Oh! Um,” Hermione stumbled, attempting to ground her speech, “Oh, I’m… I’m fine! J-just a headache, that’s all.”

“Oh. Oh! Good, good.” The woman - **_“Bellatrix!”_ ** \- stepped forward, pressing softly back into their space. A gentle kiss was placed upon Hermione’s lips, punctuated by the sharpness of a bite before she pulled back again, “I… Well, I just wanted you to know that I really, _really_ enjoyed our time together over the summer. Thank you, for… Well, for not just hating me. I just want you to know that, okay? Merlin’s beard, I still can’t figure out how Cygnus didn’t catch onto us. Can you believe the old bastard actually left?!”

“Ha, yeah, that-” Hermione swallowed back, wondering just what in the ever-loving _Hell_ this woman - **_“Bellatrix!!”_ ** \- was on about. “-was close, wasn’t it?” She shot out a smirk, something unusual and probably stilted but surely even stilted was better than shock and confusion, right?

 _Bellatrix_ smiled back at her - _them_ \- with clear love, adoration - _‘Wait,_ **_who?!’_ ** \- in her eyes.

Gods. Hermione _knew_ this woman! Or… Well, she knew _of_ her at the least, and in this one instance that was just about as far as she was willing to take it.

Bellatrix.

Fucking.

Black.

The woman who had carved her _name_ into her Husbands-

No, that thought was leading her nowhere but to a queasy stomach, and she would _not_ be dealing with that right now. She most definitely did not need to be puking up all over her own robes-

 _Were they even_ **_her_ ** _robes?!_

“Well then I’m glad you enjoyed yourself too, Cissa. Oh, and before you ask me, yes we’ll both need to be just a wee bit more circumspect now that we’re here an’ not home. Which I’m fine with, by the way.” Bellatrix stepped backwards, her face now worried and slightly frightened, “So long as you are, I mean. And we’ll both have to step up and see if we can get Andi back on our side at some point, preferably soon I’d suppose. She did look rather ticked off, didn’t she?”

Hermione froze up, mouth slightly agape and mind _blank._ One second, two, it just seemed to keep on going. She was unsure of herself, her voice, and whatever in Morgana’s Hell this girl was talking about.

**_“Just fucking answer her already!”_ **

_‘That voice-’_

**_“No, I am not a VOICE. I am Narcissa Black, and you are in. My. Body!”_ **

_‘Oh no.’_

“Cissa?” Bellatrix waved a hand in front of Hermione’s face, staring at her quizzically with a lean to her head, “You’re doing it again, you know.” Bellatrix finished speaking and placed her hands back atop Hermione’s hips, rocking side to side and slowly palming down her midriff in soothing motions.

“Oh… Oh! I’m sorry Bellatrix, it’s just, it’s my- The headache again, my apologies. Andy, well, maybe she just wanted to join in, you know?” Hermione’s words were stuttered out in a half broken, half halting expression as her mind fought back against the roaring sensation now pounding against the back of her skull.

Narcissa.

 _Narcissa fucking Malfoy was in the back of_ **_her_ ** _skull._

Or, much closer to reality, _she_ was in Narcissa’s. And somehow, someway, in charge of calling all the shots.

Bloody ridiculous, the lot of it.

Bellatrix seemed to have been appeased by her answer, the look upon her face suddenly turning into a lascivious smirk, body moving closer once again until she was pressed tight against Hermione’s skin. Their breath became stuttered loops, Hermione’s heart rate rocketing through the stratosphere when the other woman placed soft lips upon her neck, trailing soft nibbles and warm kisses up the column of her throat. Merlin’s beard, this was all getting very, very hard to ignore.

Especially seeing as Hermione seemed to have become unable to resist her own body’s responses.

 _Warmth;_ a roiling pressure that filled out her limbs and set her heart aflame.

 _Soft;_ a presence so inviting she could only just barely stop herself from reciprocating with treasured caresses.

She could just about melt into the strength of this woman-

_‘No!’_

Hermione stilled herself with a monumental strain of effort, ready and willing to push the witch away so she could regain some semblance of normalcy amid this absolute insanity.

Bellatrix beat her to it though, pulling back with a smirk and bitten lip.

“Well! I think that means we should step up our plans for surprising her. Halloween should work well, not too soon but enough time to set things in motion. I’m sure we’ll come up with a rather inviting method, even if it manages to irk her to no end until then. And, if we’re right-”

Bellatrix leaned in again to press a chaste kiss upon Hermione’s lips, both of them shutting their eyes and soaking in the bliss of the action.

“-it’ll make it all just that much sweeter. Now!” Bellatrix pulled away yet again, a strangled whine caught within the confines of Hermione’s chest, “I’m off to bed. See you at breakfast, Cissa dear.”

And with that said, Bellatrix stepped past her in a flourish of robes and blown kisses, out the door and gone into the night.

“Oh bloody Merlin, what in the Hell is going on.”

**_“No clue. But you better start talking, little witch.”_ **


	2. The Lion and the Snake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Narcissa and Hermione have a chat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not as edited as I'd like, but I wanted this up before I leave on vacation.   
> 500k words posted to Ao3 this year, and I think this serves well to end it.  
> Hope you all have magnificent holidays and a happy new year!

“Oh no. Oh no, no, no-”

The loop stuck on repeat, sounds barreling from Hermione’s throat as reality crashed down on her, interrupted only by the voice inside her -  _ their _ \- skull.

**_“No what?! Start talking already little witch, I don’t have time to keep you in MY head!”_ **

“No to all of this! Merlin, what am I even supposed to  _ say _ in a position like this? It’s not recorded! No one’s done this, and I have no frame of reference!”

**_“Well neither do I, but this is my body, and you’re the invader here, so get on with it!”_ **

Hermione was, to put it lightly, losing her absolute mind-

_ Heart rate spiking- _

_ Breathing going uneven and panicky- _

_ Shaking, hands vibrating and chest heaving- _

_ Vision narrowing down to thin points of light as the world began to sway- _

**_“Oh Morgana damn it, collect yourself and let me out already!”_ **

Hermione could  _ feel _ as something physical seemed to bash its way forward to collide against the inside of her skull with a cracking sound and bright spots bursting into vision. Something was  _ physical _ about what was happening, something was  _ tangible _ in her sudden takeover of another’s body. And now the prior owner of her body was skirting just the barest edges of Hermione’s awareness. The Headache -  **_“I have a bloody name you know!”_ ** \- roiled and churned as the woman -  **_“Narcissa!”_ ** \- struggled with everything she had against the magic that was keeping her locked away.

Of course none of Narcissa’s posturing was actually  _ helping _ in any way. Hermione still didn’t know what the hell this was,  _ how _ this all was, only just that it  _ was _ -

And she had no idea how to go about fixing it. None at all, nothing and nowhere to turn to if she were...

**_“Were what? Finish that thought little witch, I don’t know who you are or why you’re here but you won’t get away from me that easily! Why are you in my body? Why have you stolen it from me?!”_ **

“I didn’t steal your body! Gods, I never intended whatever this is! I was just sleeping, on the train, like I always do. I didn’t do  _ anything!” _

Hermione stumbled forwards on unsure feet in the direction of the vanity mirror. Her steps were halting, jerking, pausing whenever the pressure that resided between her temples would flare back up into a rollicking hurricane of pain. 

There, now that she was close enough to inspect herself she could see everything that proclaimed her situation to be true and utterly fucked. Her hair was blonde, streaked through in random spots with softer browns, straight and thin and all of it pulled back tightly against her scalp. Even her eyes -  **_“My eyes, thank you very much. And by the way, blue is so much better than brown.”_ ** \- were wrong; a sparkling blue very much like crystal, so clear as to be water, and so very full of  _ life. _

It wasn’t a mirage or an illusion.

Which meant that beneath them there was no honeyed whiskey waiting to be revealed. Her  _ own _ hair wasn’t hiding beneath Narcissa’s, all her auburn curls and tangles were  _ gone. _ How many times had she wished for that? For all her riotous curls to be swept away into something more manageable.

Well.

At least that fucking wish had been granted.

Even her  _ skin _ was wrong; where once she held a natural tan so beautiful it could have almost been bronze, now her hands were covered in a shade not far from parchment paper. There was a moment of tense flexing where the hands attached to the wrists attached to  _ her _ opened and closed again and again at an increasing frequency-

“Merlin no.”

This was all just so bloody  _ insane. _ None of it made sense, all of it was ridiculous, every second of every moment from waking aboard the train to here-

_ ‘Wait…’ _

**_“Wait for what, Little Witch? Spit it out already; if you know how to separate us then get on with it!”_ **

“I… I don’t know  _ how, _ and I don’t know  _ why _ we’re I’m-  _ we’re _ like this, but it just has to be a prank. Something from Pansy, maybe, or Lavender perhaps. Yes, yes that’s it. I-I’m just sleeping on the train still, but someone must have slipped me a Nightmare Drought.” Hermione pressed her palms against her temples, eyes squeezed shut as she fought herself to  _ wake up _ already, “That’s the only explanation, the only one. There’s no other way, I can’t be back I don’t know how many years, I can’t be back in Narcissa Malfoy’s-”

**_“Malfoy? Malfoy! Are you telling me that I marry Lucius fucking MALFOY?”_ **

The screeching of Narcissa’s voice echoed so harshly against the interior of Hermione’s skull that she was forced down onto her knees,  _ screaming _ in time with the pulsing pain inside her head. Only the charms that blanketed the room managed to prevent anyone from outside hearing her distress.

**_“Let me out of this prison this instant you insufferable slag! Undo whatever fucking spell this is, I’m NOT in the mood to deal with your made-up nonsense anymore!”_ **

_ Wait- _

“Made up? What the bloody hell are you on about? Why in the world would I make this up! You’ve already said you can see all my memories! I’m just as fucking lost in this as you are!” Hermione popped up to her feet in a bid to reach out towards the bed, her hands outstretched before herself and fingers grasping into warm silk when she finally, blessedly, managed to reach it. She pulled, hauled herself-

**_“Let-”_ **

The presence inside her mind collided yet again with the soft tissue of Hermione’s brain-

**_“-Me-”_ **

Again; harsher, pounding,  _ pounding,  _ **_pounding-_ **

**_“-Out!”_ **

One final thud. One final, impossible altercation.

Hermione slumped forward into the sheets, her mind turned off and thoughts safe for the moment.

\---

Hermione slowly, and with great effort, found herself awoken from what had to have been one of her most terrible nightmares yet. It had coalesced around her entirety with a buzzing feeling of pain, mixed and tempered with more lascivious moments. It was a stretch of broken dream memories where for some reason unknown to her, she had been picked up and repotted from her own time.

From her own  _ mind. _

Not that she would say wearing the body of that blonde woman had been hard; not with how the other woman had been so very eager to please her.

But the pain that happened after that point? Monumental; a clanging of bells and battleships that rollicked against the confines of her skull with enough force to ensure she would have fallen apart. For now, at least, as she breathed in the slightly ashy scent of the room, there was no pain. It was  _ silent. _ And the cloying feeling of covers beneath her was so very inviting, despite the scratchy confines of the school uniform that she wore-

**_“That WE are wearing, Little Witch. Now get up, you’ve yet to fix this and I’m fast running out of patience.”_ **

Hermione shot off the bed in a tangle of limbs and sheets, rolling over to fall down upon the ground with hands and knees supporting a body that was not her own.

_ That voice- _

**_“My name is Narcissa Druella Black. I am a daughter to the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black, and you will refer to me as such, Little Witch. Now get up, and get my sister.”_ **

“W-what!?” Hermione’s voice spat out, tone all wrong, eyes glancing at everywhere and nowhere.

When nothing immediately answered her, Hermione rose up onto shaky feet and stumbled her way back off towards the vanity mirror. Her mind filled in the blanks, a horrible realization smothering the faint hope that it was all just a painful dream that she would soon forget.

The terrifying insanity was real, and she was unable to extricate herself from it. No way out, no easy answer, nothing she could pluck from the library of her mind-

**_“I’ve already looked through what I could, you weren’t lying. I’m comfortable at least saying that much.”_ **

“Oh, so now you’re willing to believe me?” Hermione gripped down on the wooden edge of the vanity with fingers that bled white, her teeth grinding and blue eyes glued to the foreign reflection in the mirror.

She was…  _ beautiful, _ but not  _ her. _ And the incongruity of expecting to see herself was starting to drive her just a bit down the bend.  _ ‘Think, think!’ _ There had to be a way she could fix all this, something simple that she could start at, some counterspell that would erase this blasted hallucination.

_ “Finite Incantatem,” _ Hermione uttered the spell in time with a twirl of her finger, ready now for the joke to be over. Nothing happened. Not for a second, or even five, nothing at all changing except the tone of the voice within her mind that chuckled darkly to itself.

**_“Listen to me Granger, go get my sister, and we’ll figure this out. Separate you, free me, and you can be off on your merry bloody way, you uncouth Mudblood.”_ **

That was… surprisingly sound advice. Hermione most definitely  _ could _ leave the confines of her -  **_“-my-”_ ** \- room, to go out and search for the darker witch who had kissed her so-

Something  _ warm _ pooled low in Hermione’s belly, a flood of heat that soon dissipated when her mind caught up to what Narcissa was implying.

“She’s your fucking sister?!”

**_“...Yes? What the hell does that even matter? YOU are the one intruding on us. If anything, you’re the pervert here.”_ **

“B-but! That’s  _ incest!” _

Oh Gods. Just what had she fallen into?

**_“And? I fail to see how this separates you from me, so if we could drop this line of conversation and get back to you leaving for my sister I’d very much appreciate it.”_ **

“No.” 

It took Hermione a moment to realize that she had been the one to speak, her voice a solid timbre off from what it usually was. It echoed, haunting and confusing, odd and wrong and weirdly  _ right _ about it all. A tongue, very much like her own, but so very different. A tongue that had been lodged within their -  _ her _ \- sisters mouth. 

Narcissa seemed less intrigued by their similarities and differences and almost immediately set about thrashing against the confines of Hermione’s brain. The memory of the pain that led Hermione to pass out quickly resurfaced, and she forced herself into action.

“Stop!”

**_“No! Absolutely not, you’ll go to my sister NOW!”_ **

“I can’t!”

It was true. She couldn’t do that, not even if her life depended on it. She could in no way go up to a woman that she had just about nearly snogged to death, and blithely relate,  _ ‘Hello! I just about melted when your tongue was down my throat, but I’m not actually your  _ **_sister,_ ** _ I’m just someone riding along, a Muggleborn no less!” _

Bellatrix Black would fucking  _ kill _ her.

**_“No, she won’t. You have to get her! You have to tell her what’s going on!”_ **

“But I can’t!” Hermione sat herself down upon the stool with elbows pressed into wood and head hanging lowly in her hands. “I can’t just do that! Who knows what she’ll do to me if she finds out I’m not you, and besides, who knows if I even have a body to go back to! What year is it even? The sixties? The seventies?”

She could  _ feel _ as Narcissa swirled around the back of her thoughts, perusing and overturning all the dredges of her memories, viewing copies of all the conversations and moments she kept within herself.

**_“Little Witch, it’s currently August of Sixty-Nine, and you will go to my sister. I don’t care about your body, I just want you out of mine!”_ **

Nineteen.

Sixty.

Nine.

Hermione had managed to travel back over twenty-eight years into the past. From her own body, left asleep on the train to Hogwarts, and then shoved down into the body of one Narcissa Malfoy, once Black. Hell, it was likely that the woman had been sleeping in the same moment that Hermione had, but why? How? Absolutely none of this made sense. There had been no rituals, she had taken part in no spells, and there was  _ nothing _ in the literature she had ever read that would explain her sudden temporal displacement.

Nothing.

“Oh Gods.”

**_“The Gods won’t save you if you don’t get out of my body right this bloody instant. Now fetch my sister-”_ **

_ “No!” _ Hermione screamed her defiance out, one final defence of her own safety. What would Bellatrix do to her? If a simple exorcism managed to evict her, then where would she even go? Would her soul be set free to wander? Would she merely dissipate, removed and banished into some form of nothingness?

Would she die?

The pain that assaulted Hermoine’s mind brought to bear a sudden wish for that death, a welcome prospect if she could escape that horrible nausea that built with Narcissa’s thrashing. The woman continued, bashing and pushing against the bonds that held her prisoner. Hermione left hand clenched involuntarily, her eyes squeezing shut, ears popping and the pain of an icepick driving down between her temples.

And then it was gone.

“... Narcissa?” Hermione blinked up at the mirror, voicing her question despite knowing that the woman could likely hear her regardless, and waited on a response.

Nothing.

No screaming, no retort. The only thing that she could pick up from her passenger as the feeling of a great, but smouldering, fire. Anger hidden deep, pain kept quiet. Narcissa seemed to, for the moment at least, have given up on her assault. Hermione relaxed for what might have been the first moment since Narcissa first spoke to her.

It pained her to know that this had happened to a woman who would never have asked for it, and she was painfully aware that she had effectively stolen away Narcissa’s autonomy. But there was nothing for her to do about it.

Nothing would easily solve this.

And besides, if Narcissa’s words were true, then she had the ability to freely peruse her thoughts and memories. If the woman  _ really _ wanted to do some damage to Hermione’s psyche, she could.

Best that Hermione make the most of however long their little detente would last. Best she do  _ something _ before it all was swept aside in favour of pain yet again.

First things first, just what  _ could _ Hermione control?

Well, her state of dress for one thing. Sleep, for another. Which she could do, right? All she would have to do is avoid staring at the beauty in the mirror.  _ Her _ beauty, that was.

The shiver that wormed down her spine wasn’t altogether unpleasant, but still frighteningly  _ off. _

No, certainly she could handle this at least. It most definitely wouldn’t be as hard as finding herself in another fucking time period, or at least it would be more manageable.

Hermione rose up from the stool, swaying lightly when blood rushed to her limbs, and set about looking for clothing of some sort. There were no wardrobes in sight, but laying against the end of the bed was a large trunk made from an ebony wood and latched closed with a raven in mid-flight. Well, that managed to solve at least one of her issues. It also brought about more, but at least she could work on those  _ after _ she was changed into something more comfortable.

And not disconcertingly  _ wet, _ anymore.

There seemed to be no discernable locking mechanism for the trunk, just a smooth surface covered by the Raven where the seam of the trunk lay. Hermione ran a pale hand down the centre of the Raven’s body, barely managing to stifle a shiver that threatened to leave her wracked from core to skin when her mind focused down on the incongruity of the colour. Shaking her head, Hermione traced a pattern from wingtip to wingtip, then down onto the Raven’s beak-

“Ow!”

Hermione pulled back her hand with blinding speed to lave her tongue against the offending digit. The scent and taste of blood -  _ so much like iron, so much like metal _ \- filling her mouth. But of course the Blacks would be ones to use a blood-charm, nothing so simple as lock and key would be fit for them. 

They weren’t mere  _ peasants, _ after all.

When her finger no longer felt quite so terrible, Hermione moved on to opening the rather magnificent trunk. Even if the design and material were ostentatious, she could at least appreciate that it had likely taken many hours of craftsmanship to create. The design was top-notch; silent hinges, silvered filigree, at least two charms placed upon it to open up the inside into something that resembled miniaturized living quarters.

Seeing as there was nothing else she could do, Hermione slowly descended into the space with the help of a thin ladder that had been propped up against the inside of the trunk. Once her feet were back on solid ground she turned herself about in circles, amazed and in shock at the multitude of items stored within. Three magnificent wardrobes lined one side, each of them deep and packed full of all manner of robes, dresses, and even a few beautiful travelling cloaks.

**_“It pays to always be prepared, and it pays more if you do it in style.”_ **

Narcissa’s voice was a soft whisper against the interior of Hermione’s mind, the first contact she had with the woman since she fell silent some minutes ago.

“I think even one of these robes is worth more than everything I’ve ever owned.”

**_“Most likely.”_ **

The voice was prideful but not boasting, and once the echo had dissipated, Narcissa returned to silence. Only a faint feeling of weight accompanied her disappearance, solid and unmoving.

Hermione considered that since Narcissa hadn’t made a point to object to her looking through everything, she most likely approved of her looking about for something to sleep in. Tacitly, at least, seeing as she hadn’t pointed Hermione in the right direction. 

Hermione shut the wardrobes closed once it became clear to her that most of what they contained was daywear, and set about looking through the remainder of the space. A small vanity mirror stood atop a cabinet, with another stool much like the one above parked in front of it. Against its side was a dresser made from matching wood to the trunk itself, and a quick hand unveiled a variety of sleepwear and assorted undergarments.

All of it lace.

All of it frilled.

And not a single overly large sleep shirt in sight, or even a nice jumper.

**_“I’ve seen your idea of nightwear, and it’s quite lacking. You’d be better off just sleeping naked. Now, put something on already and get to sleep.”_ **

At first Narcissa’s words confused Hermione, as the rather bland voice seemed perfectly fine with Hermione changing into  _ her _ clothes and sleeping when just a little bit before she had been so very adamant about finding Bellatrix. She blushed, pale skin blooming pink when she realized just what Narcissa had said about her sleepwear, or the lack thereof, but quieted the retort on her lips. Best she take this odd banter in place of the piercing screams and blinding pain.

In the end, she settled on a rather opaque nightgown built from grey fabric, a long item that seemed like it would cover her from neck to ankle, and a frill of lace being its only adornment.

Of course, finding something to wear and changing to reveal a body that was not her own were two entirely separate tasks, and as Hermione came closer to unveiling herself, the more nervous she became. Her fingers trembled as she undid each button of her dress shirt, loosed her green tie and tossed it down to the ground. She bit her lip as the garment slipped from her hands to pool about her feet, skirt soon joining by its side.

Before too long she was left standing in only a matching pair of black and gold undergarments, her eyes involuntarily staring into the mirror against her wishes.

Gods, Narcissa was  _ beautiful. _

_ She _ was beautiful.

Pale skin, a body thin but not underweight, curves in all the right places and an overall shape that looked to have been sculpted-

**_“It is sculpted. Or, some of me is, at least. Some rituals are quite useful after all, especially when done in conjunction with another willing participant-”_ **

“No, no,” Hermione closed her eyes and covered her ears, “I am not listening to that. Rituals?! No one does rituals anymore, they’re considered Dark Magic!”

**_“So? Dark is just a label that the Light would apply to anything they can’t directly control. Besides, it doesn’t matter. Once you’re out of MY body, you can do, or abstain, from whatever you wish. Now hurry up, I need sleep if I’m going to deal with any of this further.”_ **

Against her better judgement, Hermione followed her tag-along orders. Keeping her eyes closed she removed the brassiere and knickers, left to feel around by hand for the nightgown. When all was done she picked up the wand that had been sitting in the pocket of the robe she had been wearing and left the same way that she entered.

As Hermione crawled beneath the silken covers, fluffed a downy pillow, and settled in for the night, she could only hope that this was a dream rather than her new reality.

It might have failed her once.

But what was the harm in hoping twice?

\---

_ The dream that Hermione found herself waking into was nothing more than that- _

_ A dream. _

_ A moment in her mind just as effervescent and unstable as all the rest. _

_ At first she was standing somewhere, a field of some sort, and then in the next moment she found herself seated on a train. Long cars ran one after the other, all of them pulled swiftly by an engine that refused to be seen when they rounded a bend in the track. _

_ A woman sat opposite to her along the benches, obviously tall and looking just as regal as bygone royalty. Blonde hair fell down straight and even except for where it had been pinned back alongside her ears. A pair of blue eyes the colour of a warm sky- _

_ “Narcissa?” Hermione’s voice was her own as she asked the question, somehow not once moving her lips. She was aware that she was right before she asked it, but it seemed the proper thing to do in this instance. _

_ Narcissa left whatever stupor had been holding her attentions, blue eyes coming back into focus and head turning until she could glare holes into Hermione’s face. _

_ “So. This is what you look like, in the flesh. I must say, your memories are quite coloured. Not quite so pretty as my sisters… But I’ll admit you have a…  _ **_charming_ ** _ little quality about you. Homey, but refined.” _

_ “Oh, um…,” Hermione stalled for words as Narcissa stood -  _ **_Gods, she was tall_ ** _ \- and moved to join her on Hermione’s side of the benches. She was aware that the woman’s words had been a compliment, but the backhanded statement was still annoying. Best she take the higher road, and not risk offending the woman with a retort. “Well, thank you. I’m sorry we’re meeting like this.” _

_ Narcissa chuffed, leaned into Hermione’s side and balled her fists into her lap, “Well, I’m quite sure it’s not your fault at least. But that doesn’t bring either us any bit closer to getting my body back.” _

_ “Right, or helping me to survive until I find a way back…” _

_ “Why are you so sure you can even find one?” Narcissa’s voice had turned over to ice as she spoke, body leaning further into Hermione until finally, something broke. The woman moved, suddenly seated atop Hermione’s lap with thighs on either side of her own, hands pressed into the wood panelling beside Hermione’s head. _

**_Heat_ ** _ assaulted Hermione. Heat, and the sudden feeling of being a very small animal caught within the maw of a dangerous predator. _

_ “What makes you think you’ll survive us?” Narcissa’s words were sex appeal wrapped around a knife, inviting and oh so sharp. Hermione was left wondering just what she wanted more, as her cheeks flushed and  _ **_something_ ** _ beginning to beat between her legs in a rhythm that matched her heart. _

_ She should ignore the feelings that this beautiful woman was dropping her into. _

_ She should ignore those thoughts that had left her ostracized in her own time. _

_ Or, for now, she could deal with the jagged edge of Narcissa’s unrelieved anger, and let herself enjoy the ride. _

_ It was a dream, after all. Surely Narcissa couldn’t  _ **_actually_ ** _ hurt her here. _

_ “I’ll find a way back. I know I will, no matter what. I’ll just need your help until then-” _

_ “I already gave you my help,” Narcissa growled out her words, body pushing off of Hermione and leaving her cold instead. The blonde witch sat back against the opposite bench, arms wrapped around herself as she stared bloody murder into Hermione’s eyes. “Go and fetch my sister, explain just what’s gone on, and she’ll help to put this right.” _

_ “Or, she’ll kill me. Or! You’ll both find a way to exorcise me, and I’ll end up dead. Which I would most definitely prefer to avoid.” _

_ Narcissa smiled, something wicked, something sharp, “Well. I believe we’re at an impasse then, Little Witch.” _


	3. The Burning Means it's Working

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> light editing. might have missed a few things.
> 
> Notes-  
> Italicized, 'quote', left aligned, is Hermione's internal thoughts.  
> Italicized, "quote", center aligned, is Hermoine/Narcissa agreeing on what they're physically saying.  
> Italicized, bolded, "quote", right aligned, is Narcissa's thoughts/words  
> "Quote", left aligned, Hermione speaking, with no direct input from Narcissa.
> 
> As an extra bit, smut isn't my bread and butter soooo.... excuse stilted portions until i find my stride with this.

Hermione felt herself being pulled awake so slowly and at such an incremental rate that she barely even noticed the switch from the world of dreams to one of objective reality. The dream or meeting that she had with Narcissa was almost all gone from every edge of her awareness until only a low feeling of unease remained, a cool breath running chills down her neck.

Without a chance to adjust, something, somehow, shot warmth through every fibre of her being.

It took a minute or two before the confusion straddling across her mind dissolved into the realisation that someone had joined her atop the bed. Someone weighted and impatient, their hands tearing across her body to strip off her knickers and replace them with a sharp tongue. Hermione’s mind was still weighed down by the final vestiges of sleep, but even addled she could recognize her heart skipping beats when the tongue pressed down further against her core and the bundle of nerves at her apex. Two warm hands tipped with daggers pierced and scratched all across her thighs in a motion that left Hermione lifting up until her hips were held steady against the rocking motion that she almost automatically responded with. 

Odd, that. She hadn’t even noticed herself responding in kind, nor had she ever made it this far before.

 _Someone_ bore down on Hermione with a fevered passion that left her bucking upwards into the laving motion, a hand reaching down to tangle amid reams of thick curls. Her lungs bathed in the fragrance of cinnamon and something sweet that threatened to overpower all her senses, a moan set loose to tumble outwards off her lips. The warmth of the mouth was so entirely unexpected - _and incredible_ \- that she had nothing at all to do with herself besides lay there under the ministrations and curl her fingers further tighter amidst the tangle of hair.

**_“More-”_ **

Hermione knew the command had come from elsewhere, not herself nor the one in bed with her, and though she had limitless reservations when it came to following Narcissa’s orders, she complied. It was just easier to do so, she was sure of it. Better she comply now rather than end up falling to her knees from a tantrum. She pushed herself into the person down along the bed to force a grind between them, a moment to search for friction, fighting for her own pleasure as hard as she was being taken. The hand Hermione held in mussed hair pressed and drew her lover forward, the mouth forced further against her, the tongue burning with every swirling motion. Hermione scratched her nails deep enough into the scalp, free hand moving to join with inflicting pinpricks of pain.

She wasn’t sure how long this dance of their continued on for, all she knew was the pleasure spiking through her core meant that she was close, so very ready and nearly at the edge-

**_“Let go, let go, little witch-”_ **

Once again Hermione found herself giving to Narcissa’s command by relinquishing control as the woman’s husked voice whispered sweetly between her ears. Hermione’s hands retreated off of the invader’s - _Bellatrix’s_ \- head, nails dancing up and over her chest to pinch at nipples strained tight underneath the barely-there silk of her nightdress.

 _“More,”_ Hermione rasped out, voice unfamiliar - _but right_ \- to her ears.

Hermione slid the errant thought and accompanying pleasure into the recesses of her mind even while some portion of her recoiled in the dissonance. She could worry about being someone else later, would enjoy and take pleasure from this for now. It wasn’t hers to take, not really, but Narcissa-

Well... Narcissa wanted this and damned if Hermione wouldn’t let the witch have it.

It _felt_ good. After going for so much of her life without indulging even once, her will was shot through and overwhelmed. She might regret it later, fret and hem and haw, but for now?

For now, she would be selfish.

The mouth pressed against her heated core pulled back to lay a soft cheek against the expanse of Hermione’s thigh before punctuating the new position with a brazen nip of teeth and the presence of a heated tongue. One hand pressed atop her hip withdrew to drag nails along her skin on its way to piercing and filling her, beating out a wonderous friction. 

“Come for me, Cissa,” the voice whispered before a kiss was placed along her thigh. “Come,” a single word, a sharp bite after.

A scream loosed itself from Hermione’s throat when the teeth sank in and her world came crashing inwards, back arching, mind blanking, stars and shimmering light exploding behind her eyelids. She held herself up as her voice petered out, body locked and muscles aching, breath a rushing gasp that flew out from her ragged throat. 

Hermione felt flush with the rush of pleasure, the flooding _rightness_ of suddenly being too tight and too warm, her body ever so slowly coming down off the high as Bellatrix rode her down through the aftershocks. The afterglow was pleasantly blocking whatever little space Narcissa composed within her mind, quiet and mewling demurely as seconds ticked onwards. Silent except for a panting moan and whispered _‘Yes,’_ that ringed its way through Hermione’s mind.

The body at the end of the bed moved forward until lips were pressed against Hermione’s own, wet and full and so very delicious. A tongue forced entry into Hermione’s mouth, claimed it and stole away whatever her mind might have been headed towards. They were both of them left with nothing at all except the warm body now laying atop them, and the pointed focus of a swirling tongue.

Bellatrix withdrew herself, lips chased by Hermione, “I had a dream not even an hour ago, little sister. Do you want to know what it was?”

_“Yes.”_

The witch - _The Stranger and the Sister_ \- nipped along the edges of Hermione’s jaw as a reply. Bellatrix murmured once before shifting her body and turning until she could more comfortably lay atop the pleasurably shivering form of Hermione’s body. Hermione herself was passive through the movement, was nothing else at all besides a too high-strung body and the weight settled gently atop her.

“I was fucking you, tasting all of you until you were screaming. Andi was with us as well, over you.”

**_“Yes!”_ **

Bellatrix nipped along the curve of Hermione’s throat, “And she was absolutely _howling_ your name, my name, all of us together.”

_“Yes!”_

The word was true at the moment, the energy and emotion even more so. Hermione knew she was being influenced by the passenger within her skull, but the Gods would damn her if she didn’t admit it as true. It was _right-_

_‘Gods this is all just so fucked up.’_

**_“So? It might be off-kilter for you, but it isn’t for me. Now lock your jaw and enjoy this.”_ **

_‘...Fine,’_ she begrudgingly answered. 

Narcissa was, in a sense, correct. This wasn’t her relationship, not really, and if she were to remain undiscovered then it would be pivotal that she not deviate. She would need to _act_ as Bellatrix’s sister if she were to remain invisible until she was ready. Which, due to their rather turbulent little dynamic, meant that she would need to go with the flow. She could argue with Narcissa until she was blue in the face, suffer assaults and migraines all day long-

Or she could give in, as she had already done. Give in with the knowledge that she wasn’t _truly_ enjoying it. It was deranged. Incest? She would never assent to something like this in a normal situation.

**_“Keep on telling yourself that, little witch. Now, bite her fucking lips already.”_ **

Well. That did sound somewhat preferable to ignoring a pretty woman lying atop her.

Hermione moved without hesitation or qualm, choosing to live in the moment. Hermione pushed her body up with elbows that sank deep into the mattress below her, lips just barely managing to graze Bellatrix’s when the woman moved to lean back. She smirked down at Hermione as she moved to sit atop her midriff, glee and lust battling for dominance within her eyes. Bellatrix was wearing much the same as Hermione had chosen to sleep in; a black nightgown just barely opaque enough to not offend anyone’s delicate sensibilities, but sheer enough to give anyone a view if they were to look closely enough.

Hermione chose to look, stoking a shot of pleasure from where Narcissa lay inside her. She reached her tongue out to draw a line along Bellatrix’s chin, her cheek, her lips that parted to bite down upon her own in an act that spoke to claiming more than passion. The witch atop Hermione’s lap reached down between them both, pulling and tugging at the fabric of her nightdress until it was bunched and pulled to reveal the flat plane of Hermione’s - _Narcissa’s_ \- abdomen.

Wet, cloying heat. 

The burn of a soothing warmth that shot down into Hermione’s skin until a gasp of broken air had been loosed from her throat.

Bellatrix ground herself down, over and over, each movement jostling little moans and whispers from Hermione’s lips. Hermione, in a brazen move that went against her own better instincts, raised a hand until she could drag the witch back down by the curve of her neck, once more claiming soft lips with her own. 

_‘Merlin, I think I might die here-’_ Hermione’s thoughts tumbled into panic at the thought of the last time she had been this _close_ with someone.

**_“I’d much prefer if you didn’t. And besides, Bella would never do that to someone.”_ **

_‘Don’t look at that-’_

**_“Hard not to, little witch. I can see everything from here. Besides, you don’t have much of a choice in-.”_ **

Sharp nails pressed in along the edges of Hermione’s ribcage, the stinging pain pulling Narcissa and herself from their burgeoning argument.

“Well?” Bellatrix murmured against the side of Hermione’s cheek, pulling back as she rocked down again and spread her legs further. “What do you want, little Cissa?”

_"I'm not little-"_

They both chafed against the title - _different reasons, same conclusion_ \- all their words stilled in favour of action. Their hand shot forward to reach between their bodies and palm at glistening heat dripping nectar.

_“I want you...”_

**_“Now, remind her just how big I can be.”_ **

_‘I… I don’t even want to unpack everything that must mean.’_

**_“Stop thinking. Just fuck her senseless already.”_ **

Narcissa’s words - _and the heat held within her palm_ \- spurred Hermione action. She pressed hard, let friction build, one finger dipping low and palm burning out a rhythm into the witch sat atop her. 

_Heat drove her-_

_The words drove her-_

_Narcissa drove her-_

Again and again, she moved with the rollicking of Bellatrix’s body, driving forward and in with a strenuous pace that left the witch panting and moaning.

The woman atop her lap slowly came undone, Narcissa following swiftly.

Little by little, Hermione felt herself fall apart as well.

\---

Waking up was an experience made all the more confusing by the differences she noted.

She wasn’t in her own bed, this one dwarfing her instead. Another body was joined beside her, nude and warm and _real._ And her thighs chafed and centre ached as if she had-

Hermione blinked awake and into a brightly lit consciousness, eyes wide and breath shocked still within her chest as all her memories came flooding in.

**_“Good morning. You’re late, you know. Gods, you sleep deader to the world than I do, and I don’t even have a body anymore.”_ **

_‘Ah… Good morning to you as well, Narcissa.’_

So then. Back to pithy comments already, even after-

_Gods. Had she really done all that last night?_

**_“Yes.”_ **

The body partially splayed atop her spoke to every sordid little act that had been committed last night, all of their nude warmth pressed tightly against Hermione’s side. The arm across Narcissa’s across Hermione’s across _their_ stomach; fingers curling around the edge of their hip and gently pressing nails into their skin. Bellatrix was still sleeping, her head of curls nestled lovingly between Hermione’s neck and the pillow, soft lips parted and breath gently stirring at Narcissa’s golden hair.

None of it was a dream, all of it reality, all of it so far away and different from her own time. _Her_ world wouldn’t have done this to her. _Her_ world wouldn’t have shoved her down into someone else’s mind. _Her_ world wouldn’t have given her a sister with a pair of lips and tongue so masterful-

**_“As much as I love that you’re no longer denigrating my relationship, I’d much prefer we drop this before it gets going. We have things to do.”_ **

_‘Like what? I don’t know about you but I’ve never woken up in bed with-’_

**_“Anyone, yes, I know that. Now push her off the bed, we need to get ready.”_ **

Simple words, simple instructions. Ones that Hermione was thoroughly prepared to ignore by way of spite towards the petulant tone that Narcissa had used. Her _parents_ hadn’t even chastised her with such a whinge in years.

That deserved some form of pushback… right?

Well, she had nothing else to do besides be brave; lion though she may no longer be, spite and daring still swirled within her chest. Hermione screwed up her courage, took a deep breath, and leaned to capture Bellatrix’s lips in a bruising kiss. She could _feel_ Narcissa shivering within her, a bolt of pleasure spiking through them both, and after a few seconds passed by she punctuated her daring with a bite and swirling length of tongue.

Her movements were sharp enough and insistent enough that within seconds Bellatrix began to stir, moving to reciprocate and swiping out her own tongue across the expanse of Hermione’s lips. 

“So,” Bellatrix lazily whispered after pulling away, “Is that how we’re playing it?”

_“Yes-”_

“Well, then we’ll have to spend some time going over syllabi later. Don’t wait up for me Cissa,” Bellatrix rolled herself off the bed, her bare feet slapping down against the cold stone floor. “I’ll meet you in Charms.”

**_“Tell her we’ll be along shortly.”_ **

“We-,” Hermione’s words choked, “I’ll be along soon Bellatrix.” Hermione felt her heart rate spike for the second of her near misstep, calmed the next moment by a light peck upon her lips before Bellatrix turned and walked away.

\---

_‘Alright then, so where are we sitting?’_

**_“The head,”_ ** Narcissa replied, voice snappish and proud. **_“Where else?”_ **

Where else indeed.

The Great Hall was much as Hermione knew it from her own time; a massive space occupied by five long tables, one each for their separate Houses and a fifth for Staff members and visitors. All the colours were as they should be, all the statues and windows lining the walls exactly as she remembered them. Even the ceiling was still a patchwork of the sky outside the building, rolling clouds and gentle rays of sunlight.

Hermione smiled gently before the witch inside her head admonished her for the lapse in movement, piercing voice demanding that she portray a Queen of Ice.

Gods but it felt _needless._

The sashay of her hips as the strutted forward on heels she never would have worn on her own was _wrong._ The tilt of her chin, the glare in her eyes, all of it immediately enforced by Narcissa and so very _foreign_ to herself.

Striding about as if she were some peacock; _useless_ posturing, uselessly putting on a display that in her own world would never once have gotten her any boys attentions no matter what.

**_“It wasn’t any of the boys that you were interested in impressing anyways, so just deal with it.”_ **

_‘That’s not- I don’t-,’_ Hermione fumed at the words; all of it truth but not something she was ready to confront. Not here, not with Narcissa. Later, though.

Hermione relied on Narcissa’s directions and moved to the head of the Slytherin table where no bench wrapped around to sit. A flourish of her wand summoned a chair from the ether, specific and crafted to Narcissa’s demands. But not _exactly,_ according to her passenger.

**_“You made all the accents gold when they should have been silver. Can you even listen to me? Is this some punishment or other?”_ **

_‘Of course I can listen to you, I just-’_

**_“Well evidently you can’t listen well enough. This is my reputation that you’ll tarnish, not your own!”_ **

Fair enough point, Hermione conceded.

With a wordless application of magic, Hermione slowly altered the chair until the filigree and finery had shifted silver instead of golden, Narcissa murmuring appreciatively when she finished. No one around them seemed to have noticed the shift in colouration or at least none were willing to point out that it had even happened.

_‘So, now what? We just eat, or is there some other Pureblood custom I need to drag out first?’_

**_“Just eat,”_ ** Narcissa answered, an order that Hermione immediately perked to. **_“We’ll wait for Andi and Bella to arrive before we leave. They should be down shortly.”_ **

Finally, a request that Hermione felt she could tolerate. She might have been famished from missing the feast last night, as well as her more nocturnal activities, but still Narcissa would not tolerate anything less than proper decorum. Decorum that Hermione could deal with, at least for the moment. The meal passed in silence, the bench on either side of where she sat all empty, Narcissa the only voice as the witch corrected or improved her posture. A grouping of Seventh Years sat beyond her, every now and then looking towards her as if she would speak, or grace them with her presence.

Odd, that. Hermione couldn’t remember the Slytherin’s being so… _demure,_ back in her own time.

_‘They all follow you?’_

**_“Of course. I’ve been the Queen of Slytherin’s court since my fourth year. We take our responsibilities seriously here, nothing like the dregs that infested Slytherin during your time.”_ **

Well, that certainly managed to clear a few things up.

The meal proceeded normally, if unnaturally, as Narcissa commented on each and every bite Hermione took. The food was too salty, too hot, one portion too sweet for her rather refined sensibilities.

It was enough to drive Hermione mad.

She was saved, however, by the arrival of a body in the seat to her right, as well another to her left that draped a warm hand down the trailing edge of her collarbone as the person moved to take their seat.

Bellatrix on her left, dazzling and poised even dressed in her school uniform, and Andromeda-

_‘Your bloody sister is Andromeda Tonks?!’_


	4. Prove Yourself

**_“Ah. You know, I was wondering when you would finally figure that out. Who did you think my sister was?”_ **

Hermione could feel the heat of a deep and regal flush beginning to threaten her with a swallowing up of all the skin above her chest. The warmth was positively maddening, almost as much so as the embarrassment flushing through her. She had, in fact, most definitely had questions as to who the mysterious Andromeda was. But those had seemed unimportant in the face of a woman driving her to ecstasy unheard of.

_‘I… Well, I didn’t… know...’_

_Andromeda Tonks was really Andromeda_ **_Black._ **

_‘Oh Gods…’,_ she bemoaned internally, a peal of dark laughter following it from wherever Narcissa resided.

“Morning Cissa, Bella.” The younger form of Hermione’s much-beloved Runes Professor was a light speaker, voice airy and unconcerned with whatever had - _or would_ \- befall her in the future. 

Gentle still, just as Hermione remembered.

**_“Well? Are you going to say anything?”_ **

Hermione felt the flush deepen, mouth dry and thoughts scattered, “M-morning Andi-”

The words clammed shut within her throat not a moment after speaking, attention suddenly all thrown into the hand atop her knee. Bellatrix gave her a sideways grin, mirthful and dark, nails dragging as she did so.

Gods was the woman incorrigible. Touching her? Here, of all places!?

Hermione let the moment play out as Bellatrix dug her nails in further, plotting and wondering just how she could deal with this sudden bomb of information. She _could_ simply act as Narcissa bid her. Certainly that was a safe plan, especially seeing as the woman _knew_ Andromeda and would have no reason to stray from how her sisters already knew _her._ Auto-pilot was quite tempting, to be sure.

 _Except for the fact that this was Andromeda_ **_fucking_ ** _Tonks!_

The only Professor she had ever had a true crush on, the only Professor she had ever considered as a miracle worker, the only Professor that had - _on more than one occasion_ \- delivered Hermione from the depths of her lowest moments-

**_“Morgana’s tits, are you always this melodramatic? Yes, yes, so she helped you. You what? Latched on? Well, that’s all fine and dandy where you’re from. I don’t care about that. What I do care about, and think is the question we should be asking here, is just why she’s taken that godawful name in your future.”_ **

Ah, yes. She should have suspected that Narcissa would rain on her merry little ray of sunshine at the earliest opportunity.

_‘I don’t know-’_

**_“Of course you don’t know. Don’t you realize I can see that? You’re giving me terribly little to work with in terms of the future, Hermione. Despite knowing you’ve come from there, you’re lacking on quite a lot of firm details.”_ **

Hermione couldn’t disagree with Narcissa when it came to that. So, she didn’t. Instead, she simply nodded her head along to the words inside her mind as mindless banter passed between Bellatrix and Andromeda. It was true, after all, that she knew precious little about the inner machinations of Wizarding culture. Being a Muggleborn most certainly had its drawbacks.

She _had_ found friends enough in Harry and Ron, but neither of the boys had ever made very much of an effort towards including her in their world. They were fine for summer, or during the school year, but most legitimate Wizarding Holidays found her back at her parent’s home, all alone. 

Being the Black Sheep tended to only _increase_ that bit of isolation. Wider events ended up passing her by, not helped at all by her nervousness at diving in headfirst.

But when it came to her Professor? What _did_ she actually know about the woman?

 _‘She was-_ **_is_ ** _my favourite teacher. She always found time to sit with me and go over theory or other discussions, even about things I wouldn’t have learned until well into my Seventh Year. She… She sat with me one day, after… After Pansy_ **_fucking_ ** _Parkinson tried to give me a dressing down outside the hallway of Charms. She said she knew what it was like to love someone in a way that society didn’t approve…’_

**_“Hmm… Making a little more sense then?”_ **

“So Cissa, you ready for classes?” A voice broke through Hermione’s frazzled mind, a shaggy blonde head of hair garnering her attention. The face the boy wore was pinched too much to be anything other than uptight, his eyes… _consuming,_ leading her to shiver beneath the gaze.

**_“Lucius…”_ **

_‘Lucius? As in, Lucius-Schoolboard-Head-Malfoy? W-what do I do? What do I say?!’_

She could feel herself beginning to panic, heart rate spiking both from her own memories of a rich man staring down at her, and Narcissa’s dislike that seemed to come from _somewhere_ Hermione lacked access to.

**_“Just let me speak, however it was we did it last night.”_ **

Well, that seemed to be a reasonable enough request. Certainly their shared moments under Bellatrix’s ministrations had led to that rather surprising revelation. Narcissa could, if Hermione were willing, speak along with her. She would just need to-

_“Oh, Lucius! I hadn’t seen you there, are you well? Has Abraxas managed to find anyone yet?”_

The words managed to flow past her lips with the comfort of silk, tinged and dripping with false honeyed-delight. Bellatrix seemed to have caught onto it immediately, a sharp grin thrown her way and the hand upon her knee sliding further along the curve of her thigh. Andromeda merely looked between the two of them with interest hidden beneath her dark gaze, aware but unwilling to step in and spoil Narcissa’s fun. The words mostly ended up unbidden from Hermione’s side of the equation, more just a conscious _give_ that allowed Narcissa to use her as a speaker, no effort on her part except to move her lips and listen to the oddness of her new voice.

It was crazy, and weird, and would definitely require more study when they were alone.

_Later-_

The blonde boy was sitting not two spaces down from Andromeda, a spoonful of porridge or some other such gruel paused just a centimetre from his lips, “F-found, um, what?”

_“Oh, silly me. A match! Has Abraxas found you one yet? I know it must be hard, word has certainly gone around about you, but if he looks just a little below his station I’m sure he’ll find you someone. Keep your chin up!”_

The table was silent as the grave, only the muted roaring of the other tables filling the air, a globule of mush falling off of Lucius’s spoon as he sat there frozen, evidently startled by her words. Horror? Disgust? Shock? All of it a lovely counterpoint to Bellatrix’s sudden outburst of giggles and Andromeda’s barely noticeable smirk. Even Hermione found herself laughing inwardly at his cringing form, the snickers and cruel smiles of the rest of the table only serving to reinforce the embarrassment of his situation. The social ladder was most certainly not being kind to him, and here was the Queen ready to shove him down a few rungs.

 _‘What did he do to deserve that?’_ Hermione questioned, once her mirth died back down.

**_“Everything.”_ **

Ah. Well, that explained exactly nothing. Still, even though it wasn’t something she would have ever agreed to within her own time, knocking him down like that felt _good,_ even if it hadn’t been her own idea.

**_“I’ll be damned if I marry that buffoon. Need to figure out how that-”_ **

“So, did you get in well, Cissa? I didn’t see you at the feast.” 

Andromeda’s voice managed to break Hermione away from the depths of her thoughts, head swivelling as she tried - _as daintily as she could_ \- to finish chewing upon a bite of toast and butter.

_‘Wait, when did I start eating again?’_

The flush that had momentarily retreated came roaring back with the pounding of blood in her ears, Andromeda’s gaze leaving her to fly from memories to fantasies to-

**_“Oh bloody hell, just answer her already!”_ **

“Oh. Oh! I was fine, Pro- _Andromeda,”_ Hermione stumbled her way past the almost-faux-pas. “I had a migraine is all, took a potion and knocked it right out.”

“Good, good.” Andromeda turned away to look down the length of the table, “Bella wasn’t keeping you awake _all_ night, I hope?”

Lightning bolts of shock and heat dragged their way down Hermione’s spine, shivering little bits of pleasure suddenly radiating from wherever Narcissa sat curled within her mindscape. This was _far_ more forward than Hermione had expected-

**_“Tell her yes, she kept us up all night-”_ **

_‘Fuck no!’_

**_“Oh come on, you’re no fun at all.”_ **

“Ah, she was- well, I mean she-”

Andromeda’s grin turned positively feral, all glinting teeth and darkness that churned just beneath her gaze. _Hot,_ in a manner of speaking, and in a way that left her stomach swirling in desire.

More than enough of a look to send Hermione into a panic.

“Well, I hope you two had _fun_ without me. I’m going to finish eating on the go, Professor Slughorn needs some work drawn up for the First Years. I’ll see you both later?”

Hermione nodded dumbly while her heart flew into a panic, Andromeda grabbing up a fresh apple from the table and standing. Her hand ghosted across the top of Hermione’s right shoulder as she left, a nail dragging along the skin of her neck as she did so. 

_‘Fuck…’_

Hermione felt herself sway within her seat, lightheaded and suddenly filled with a desire to _burst_ from whatever form she currently was. All her instincts, all her social graces, everything and everything _gone_ in the wake of a single touch.

“Bye,” Hermione muttered weakly, eyes just barely holding still inside her head as she followed the retreating form of Andromeda.

**_“You’ve quite the fixation for my sister…”_ **

_‘She’s… Well, fuck. You know_ **_exactly_ ** _what I think of her.’_

**_“Yes… Do you see why I like her so much, now? And isn’t that a delicious thought. The perfect little student, and the lovely Professor Tonks; I will say thank you for the beautiful images, she truly does grow into her beauty. But all those scenario’s you’ve imagined, I can tell you from experience that-”_ **

-Hermione felt herself turn beet red at _that-_

**_“-she’s much, much more beautiful in bed. Hmm… What’s this though?”_ **

Hermione could _feel_ as Narcissa began to root around her memories, a featherlight touch that seemed to ghost all over her body, all through her mind. Her core was pounding by the time that Narcissa found what she wanted, the feeling of warm breath along her neck and caresses that seemed to be unending-

**_“Aw, little Teacher’s Pet. How delightful! Little Witch, asked to stay over? Or detention? … A lovely evening spent underneath her tutelage… How quaint.”_ **

Gods, Narcissa _must_ have had a clue as to what that thought did to her. Exactly how many nights had she spent on her lonesome, a hand shoved down her knickers and that image in her mind? The older woman, her teacher, her Professor, ordering her down onto her knees with a strong grip on her school tie. Hermione _knew_ what she wanted, her legs spread and orders spilling from the darkly painted lips-

How many nights had she moaned out that name?

How many nights had she found herself coming undone by thoughts of pale skin, full breasts, of nails that dug in or palms that slapped if she were to make a single mistake-

**_“You really do fancy her, don’t you?”_ **

_‘Well, what the bloody fuck do you think?’_

**_“Personally? Well, I think it’s adorable, Little Witch. Do you want that? Being a subservient little Pet to my sister? Left to hang onto her every word, every syllable that drips from her mouth? I don’t-”_ **

“Hey!”

The whispered half-shout managed to knock the two of them off their perch; Hermione falling back into her body to notice the obvious dampness coating her thighs and knickers, Narcissa suddenly aware of precisely where they were.

The mortification from both of them was enough to leave her looking like a tomato.

Bellatrix dug her nails into their thigh just a little bit further, her eyes all wide and blown out so very much, so full, so beautiful, and Hermione just wanted to-

Bellatrix snapped her fingers in front of their face, “Cissa? Cissa, godsdamnit, come on! We’ve got to get going, _now!_ I’ll be damned if I’m late for Charms on the first day, Flitfuck won’t let me hear the end of it. Save that for the second, will you?”

Class?

Well, that was odd. What was _class?_

And Flitfuck? Did she mean Flitwick?

Class.

_Class!_

“Fuck!” Hermione exclaimed just beneath her breath, the hunk of toast dropped back down onto her plate in the same moment that she stood. She hurriedly banished the chair, mind whirling with how much time must have passed within their conversation. Class! How in Merlin’s bloody arse had she managed to forget she had a time-schedule to keep, places to be!

**_“Hmm… If just thinking about Andi has you this riled up, I wonder how you’ll react once you taste the real thing?”_ **

_‘Shut up!’_

\---

Charms.

Charms was a class that meant safety. Charms was a class that meant Professor Flitwick would be teaching. Charms was a class that Hermione knew like the back of her hand.

Charms meant that she could excel regardless of the time period, and show off all she knew before a teacher who would appreciate her intellect. 

Charms also, though not unfortunately so, meant Bellatrix and all the errant memories of having the woman’s mouth upon her slit. 

Gods but she had a devilish tongue.

_‘Fuck.’_

“Now, for our first task, is there anyone in here who can tell me what specific Charm one would use if they were secreting away a bit of knowledge?” Professor Flitwick addressed the class, looking far younger and dapper than the last time she had seen him. He stood at his podium, atop a mound of books, his wand out and tapping against the wood. “Well? Anyone?”

Hermione’s hand shot up out of muscle-memory, a blinding pace that left Bellatrix at her side with a confused look. Was she startled by the action? How often did Narcissa answer-

“Umm, yes, Ms. Black?”

Hermione could feel Lucius glaring at her from where he sat further along the table, “That would be a Fidelius Charm, Professor.”

The look on Flitwicks face was for one moment fear, or dread, at least until he seemed to process her answer.

 _Odd,_ really.

Flitwick seemed to gather his wits before replying, “Correct! Now, could anyone tell me the first portion of application if one would seek to cast a complete Fidelius?

Another question that Hermione knew she could answer-

**_“No!”_ **

Hermione’s hand still where she held it just above the edge of the table, _‘No? What do you mean, no?’_

**_“By no, I mean no! Just, just stop it!”_ **

_‘No.’_

Hermione completed raising her hand, this time her first curled up and eyes more on Bellatrix than the Professor. When she gazed at him after a moment of silence he once again looked confused, though _softer_ this time. She wasn’t exactly sure what that meant-

“Y-yes, Ms. Black?”

“The first-”

“-portion of the Charm is meant to invoke the Oath Keeper. This is done before any secret is determined, and is the first in fourteen stages.”

Bellatrix.

_Bellatrix!_

Her sister - _wait_ \- had interjected with the answer, loud and brash and swallowing up all of Narcissa’s - _Hermione’s_ \- words. After the interruption, the witch moved to stare sideways at her with devilry clear in her eyes and dark mirth coalesced into an inviting smile.

Beautiful for sure, but damnably aggravating.

**_“Just stop it this instant. No more answers!”_ **

_‘Why? What’s wrong with this?!’_

**_“Why? Because I said so! This is my body, this is my life, and I’ve already had this planned out! Just stop interfering already!”_ **

A current of near blinding pain shattered its way through the anger that Hermione felt welling up beneath her chest, the whole of her body shivering once as a hand shot up to hold still against her temple. By all the Gods, Narcissa could be positively _dreadful_ when she wanted to inflict pain-

**_“And I’ll make it worse for you, Little Witch. We might have come to some form of agreement where it comes to my family, my love life, but you’re still the stranger here. You are the invader. I am not happy with this situation, but I’m willing to coexist until I can figure out a way to toss you out. Remember that, Hermione.”_ **

Fuck.

 _Fuck, fuck, fucking_ **_fuck!_ **

_‘Screw you!’_

What did Narcissa think this was, a test? Some chance to goad her? Maybe just a moment to exude infantile petulance? _She had never asked for this!_ She would never, not ever, not once in a million bloody years, ever willingly ask to be sent off through time and space to inhabit a woman she didn’t know in a time she didn’t care for, with nothing and no one around to ground her or keep her safe beyond the mercurial attitude of her ride-along. It was madness!

_It was ridiculous!_

And yet here she was suffering for it all, pained from it, stuck between the hard spot of having to _live_ as this woman, or reveal herself and deal with whatever the resulting consequences were.

_‘You don’t control me, Narcissa.’_

**_“Well, I can bloody try.”_ **

\---

The remainder of their Charms block managed to proceed well enough, if Hermione were to discount the mounting headache that Narcissa was forcing her to endure. Each and every question that Flitwick could ask was answered with her hand in the air alongside an increasingly frustrated Bellatrix. The witch had made it a point to keep up with her at every moment, trying her level best to beat her to the punch.

So much so that Flitwick gave up on calling out, _‘Ms. Black,’_ and resorted to calling them by first name. If his means were to keep them from intruding upon one another’s answers, he was sorely let down.

By the time class ended not a single eye was staring at where Flitwick stood, all of them instead choosing to pierce through Bellatrix and herself, all of them shocked and slightly awed.

Two hours.

Two _entire_ hours filled up completely with them both going back and forth, further and further into the depths of the Fidelius Charm. Certainly it was more than Flitwick had been prepared to go, and by the time it was all over Hermione was certain he was asking increasingly complicated questions to satiate his own curiosity, rather than imbue the rest of the class with any knowledge that would stick.

If anything, the stunt managed to prove that they both knew a lot, as it turned out. Much to Narcissa’s constant annoyance, and eventual swell of begrudging pride.

Hermione might not have listened to her at all, but she had managed to impress upon their peers that she knew _a lot,_ and that she was smarter beyond anything they had been expecting.

When the class was finally dismissed, Hermione moved to pack the light satchel that Narcissa had charmed to fit inside one of their pockets. It was filled with books and empty parchment, all of it having sat unused and unopened during their quizzical display. All of it disappeared back into the depths from which it came, all of it waiting and ready for whatever class was next. Her classmates slowly filed out with soft murmurs and pointed glares, and with all the increased scrutiny, Hermione found herself waiting until the last moment to leave.

Same, it seemed, as Bellatrix. Soon it was only them and Flitwick remaining, his back turned away and wand drawing chalk lines all over the board as he prepared for his next class.

Without turning around he called out to them, “Bellatrix? Narcissa? A word, if you would.” 

His voice floated up to where they stood at the top of the auditorium, both witches sharing a silent look in the aftermath.

**_“Well? Best you get moving, Little Witch.”_ **

“Yes Professor, we’ll be down in one moment.”

They both took their time, or as much as they dared, in going to move down the short staircase to meet with him. Bellatrix tried, as they descended, to subtly place her palm along the curve of Narcissa’s rear, fingers clenching until Hermione looked over at her with a face full of shock and cheeks burning red.

Incorrigible, through and through.

“Well, you’ve both managed to make the first class of the year quite exciting,” Flitwick began when they stood before his podium. “I certainly wasn’t expecting anything like _that_ so soon into the year. Usually, my Seventh Years take a bit of time to get used to thinking of this as less of a formal experience than their prior years. Might I ask, Narcissa, where did all that come from? I don’t remember you being so forward in class before.” Flitwick finished his question as he turned around to sit atop the mound of books piled onto his podium, eyes peering up and wavering between them both.

**_“As you can likely tell by now, I’ve never done anything like that before. Of course he has questions, you practically threw a book at him. But, seeing as this is all your fault, you can answer. Alright, Little Witch? Let’s see what you come up with.”_ **

Well, since it was clear Narcissa would be of no help-

“Oh, I helped her study before term, Professor.” Bellatrix broke in to answer for her, voice confident and pride etched into her features. “Cissa just wanted to get a leg up over the summer, so we went through all the required texts a few times.”

A lie, Hermione was sure, but serviceable.

“Er-, yes Professor. I felt that seeing as this is our final year, it would be best if I apply myself a bit more honestly.”

“Ah, I see. Well then, if that’s the case… You’ve both managed to push us out past the first month of classes. Quite inspiring, I might add. You had more than a few intricacies to your answers that I would like to go over later if you’d be willing. And, beyond that, have either one of you ever thought of joining the Advanced Study Group? We meet up once a week, an hour after dinner on Thursdays. It might do you both well, seeing as you’re so advanced into the material already.”

_‘Fuck.’_

**_“Indeed. And not anything at all like the kind of fucking I like. Well? Are you going to answer him or just stare like your head emptied out?”_ **

“Oh, sure Professor. That sounds lovely.”

Bellatrix seemed to be taking her cues from Hermione, a resounding agreement coming from her not even a second later. 

“Sign me up as well, seems like it’d be more fun than hanging about in the back of class.”

Fun.

_‘Fuck.’_

\---

“Come on, let’s go,” Bellatrix growled out beneath her breath, arm looping around Hermione’s and dark curls bouncing as she began to tug her along a disused hallway that Hermione knew led up to the second floor.

The conversation stopped right there, just a few words and action that had Hermione trudging dutifully by her side, all while Narcissa sulked somewhere in the background. The headache that she had forced Hermione through had mostly disappeared and with it Narcissa’s temper had faded away. The timing left Hermione wondering whether the action of hurting her _took_ something from the other witch, some form of energy maybe, or perhaps even she felt the pain.

Whatever the reason for their detente, Hermione would take it.

Better she be hauled off without the voice ringing inside her mind than deal with yet another migraine.

Their path meandered up staircases that Hermione couldn’t recall, but eventually it managed to lead them both towards what Hermione remembered as the disused second-floor bathroom. It was a space long thought haunted in her own time, or at least it had been until proven otherwise by a coalition of the Castle’s ghosts. Still, it had been left empty and mostly silent except for those few souls who sought it out for the quietude it provided.

Not that _she_ had ever gone looking for it purposefully. It was simply a good place to keep to herself and cry and accept her sadness for what it was.

But that action was most certainly not on Bellatrix’s mind.

Instead of flowing into her usual routine of hiding inside the furthest stall to bawl her eyes out, Bellatrix had her hauled off into the first stall and thrown up against the wall. The door clanged shut behind them in the same instant that Bellatrix fell down upon her, shoving Hermione back and laying herself chest to chest as if she could physically push them into one being.

“Merlin, Cissa… You’ve no idea what you were doing to me, eh?”

Bellatrix leaned in to harshly nip along the skin of Hermione’s neck, present and insistent in a way that left Hermione keening almost immediately. All these actions, these moments between them, had Hermione submitting to them as soon as they happened-

 _Odd._ But not unwelcome.

A warm tongue drifted out to lave a trail of blinding heat along the curve of her neck, licking, sucking, alternating between it all while Bellatrix tried to pierce her with sharp black nails. Her core was churning at the movement, breath panting from the pleasure. Even Narcissa was stirred from wherever she had been pouting; a curling darkness slowly flooding through the edges of Hermione’s awareness as the witch enjoyed her sister’s ministrations. Hermione could _feel_ as Narcissa seemed to purr, could _feel_ as they were both rocked by gentle waves of pleasure. Bellatrix’s lips were so soft, her teeth so sharp, her weight a constant presence drawing fire from their core.

“Do you really think you’re better than me, Cissa?” Bellatrix punctuated her words by pulling away and leaving Hermione to futilely chase after her lips. A hand suddenly shoved itself between her skin and the waistband of her skirt, fingers making short work of her knickers in their attempt to find her slit. A rub began, full of friction and desire, that had Narcissa - _Hermione_ \- bucking forward in time with the ministrations.

_“Fuck…”_


	5. Burning to the Middle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things happen!

Against the whirling tumble of Hermione’s rather uninformed expectations, the flow of time remained constant even as she kicked and fought to right herself amid the madness of the new world she had fallen into. Each and every day was filled with something new to pique her interests and stave off the boredom and introspection that would have overwise set in, were she in her normal life at least. Even though it _helped_ more than it hindered her, she could not - _would not_ \- dare shake the feeling of some inescapable madness being _off._

Off, in this instance at least, meant far more than simply _‘I am not in my own body, I am not in my own time, I am in someone_ **_else’s_ ** _body, I am in someone_ **_else’s_ ** _time-’_

**_“And yet even acknowledging all that, still you fail to accept it. I can still hear you mumbling about, you know. Every little whisper to grace the underside of your skull, every little thought that dares pass between my ears.”_ **

Hermione stiffened in place when the soft ring of Narcissa’s words began to reverberate throughout her mind, _‘Oh for- Sorry, I forgot you were there a moment.’_ It wasn’t quite an apology, but then again there wasn’t much of one to be had now that she was burning through stretched limbs and aching lungs that pushed through a yawn. _‘Sometimes it’s just easier for me if I don’t pay attention…’_

**_“Well, I’m sure it’s lovely for you. You have a body you can move. Why I bet that when you close your eyes you can still imagine your own face. But for me? I can’t stop paying attention. I can’t stop noticing the differences. Don’t do me the disservice of pretending, not even for a moment, that I don’t exist. Because right now you’re the only bloody one who does.”_ **

Hermione froze up completely as the words were digested, eventually coming to the conclusion that Narcissa’s request was rather honest in its wording. Hermione certainly _had_ been making her best attempts at ignoring the whole of the situation. She wouldn’t deny the witch that. But looking back on it?

Looking at what she had accomplished, or ignored, set the taste of ashes along her tongue and nervous stomach into a flip that tinged and rang with half-assumed guilt. 

She knew she may not have actually asked for this situation, but she _was_ currently the only one purely benefiting from it. It was almost as if she were-

**_“A parasite. What? Too much a Cockatrice to admit when you’re the bad-girl?”_ **

_‘Oh, Merlin’s bloody beard- Sod off with that! Your insults aren’t helping the situation in the slightest!’_ Hermione’s un-voiced reply bristled with irritation, the deeper undercurrents of Narcissa’s frequently rather foul mood beginning to have a legitimate effect on Hermione’s own state of mind. Hermione supposed that of course today would be the one set of twenty-four hours where Narcissa was tinged red and dallying about just around the peripheries of a migraine. It only made sense that what _could_ be a good day would instead be ruined by their slowly growing animosity.

Hermione shook her head, blonde hair and the dredges of her miasma both flying about her face and her mind as she forged ahead with the morning’s preparations. Narcissa, silent but aware, took instead to providing them both with bouts of impatient spite and grumbling heat that left Hermione vowing to ignore her for however long as possible. The silken fabric of her undergarments, the tailored hug of the uniform- Hermione adorned herself in Narcissa without a single word or thought dedicated to the maelstrom locked away inside her brain.

Narcissa remained quiet, if only to stew further in her anger.

Luckily enough for Hermione’s already frazzled mind, the blonde witch’s makeup routine was the last step in her preparations for the day; a rather long stretch of time coming to represent the moments where she allowed Narcissa’s memories and thoughts to power her movements, stretches of time where instead Hermione resided within her own memories.

Memories filled up with longing for home, memories filled with life now lost, memories of an exceptionally attractive Professor that had the talent to tilt her head and smile _just right,_ memories of-

Well, memories of _heat_ and shivers that soon enough had a tingle coursing down the length of her spine to pool low between her legs and set her now-pale face into a blazing red. A shiver which lasted well until Hermione was opening her door to leave, only to find that heat condensed into lava at the sight before her.

Bellatrix pushed inwards without a hint of hesitation or reluctance that soon turned into a finger tapping against Hermione’s nose, “Ah, I see. So we’re just back to locking doors again? And here was poor little me, thinking we’d already moved past that stage.”

_‘Ah…’_

“Oh-”

**_“Yes, very ‘Oh’, you stub-toed Bladderwulk.”_ **

_‘Fuck off-’_

**_“Believe me I would if I could, an orgasm sounds spectacular right about now. Strip, Parasite.”_ **

“Oh?” Bellatrix mimicked, her red lips a perfect circle that suddenly commanded all of Hermione’s attention.

Well.

Very _Oh_ indeed. Or maybe more than very. Hermione _had_ been making it a rather noticeable point to leave her door locked before she drifted off to sleep; Narcissa’s wishes might have been to leave the door open but Hermione had other plans, leading them both into fits and tantrums and backtalk that lasted until they both were stolen away by Morpheus. Finding herself awoken to a pretty woman knelt between her legs had been a lovely experience that had left her feeling ill-rested for the remainder of the day, no matter how good Bellatrix’s tongue had felt against her core.

And that was her feeling _excluding_ the absolute shock of it all. Hermione’s response, the night after and since, had been quite simple. Shut the door, lock it. Quick and easy, no muss or fuss.

Except that it failed to yield anything close to desired results.

Bellatrix was more ghost than human, a being that knew exactly what she wanted and would stop at nothing to achieve it. A simple twist on the _Alohomora_ spell had granted her access every night, despite Hermione’s increasingly harried attempts to lock her out. It appeared more and more that Bellatrix merely saw the locked door as a challenge meant to entice her rather than the honest request for privacy that it had been.

Until last night, that was. Instead of throwing all the locking spells that Hermione knew, she had instead looked up a rather delightful blood-bound version of what was usually a very low powered Charm. One twist of her hand, a quick prick upon her finger, and she was done.

Simple as that. That it had taken her that long to find was an endless source of shame; Hermione was sure that had she been in her own world she would have found the answer the first night, and not needed to spend days afterwards fighting off sleep and aching muscles.

And now here was Bellatrix to do… _something_ to Hermione for making her wait.

**_“I told you it was a ridiculous idea-”_ **

Hermione stifled the thoughts within her head and chose instead to simply focus upon the alluring scent of jasmine that seemed to pour off from Bellatrix’s hair. Her back straightened, voice tightened, channelling as much of Narcissa’s icy exterior as she could.

“Well I do sometimes prefer privacy, you know.”

“Oh yes,” Bellatrix’s face lit up as she pushed her way further into the room. “You sure do love your privacy while I’m fucking your brains into a puddle, don’t you?” Bellatrix punctuated her words with a shoving hand that left Hermione off balance and tipping backwards. Before her horrid lack of coordination left her unconscious, or worse, Bellatrix reached out to grasp a warm arm around Hermione’s torso and pulled them both together, chest knocked impatiently against chest.

The door behind Bellatrix closed softly with a click, the last sound to pierce Hermione’s ears as suddenly all she could focus on was the rushing sound of blood within her veins. Bellatrix manoeuvred them both backwards towards the bed until the backs of Hermione’s legs were pressed up against the mattress and the hand upon her waist was dipping lower to squeeze and fondle through the fabric of her skirt and cloak. Once their bodies had been stilled and robbed of all momentum, Bellatrix leaned in to claim Hermione’s lips with passion unchecked and nipping teeth that stole away a keening whimper from Hermione’s chest. The heavy weight of the woman was damn near all she could think about; Narcissa’s immediate approval at the situation flooding them both with _heat_ and blessed _need._

“Bella,” Hermione whined, pulling back away from the witch with a swiftness that left Narcissa pounding about in anger. “Come on. Later, okay? I need to eat something before heading to Runes.”

“Well, now that you bring it up I have something that you could eat-”

Hermione bit back the edges of a laugh, rolling her eyes and barely cracking a grin at Bellatrix’s little offer, “No, no, no. Lovely as that sounds I need _food,_ Bella.”

With delicate fingers Hermione managed to extricate herself from the cloying heat of Bellatrix’s grasp, a lingering hand laid down upon her forearm being the witch’s only form of reply. Confident strides long and even propelled her forward and out the door before Bellatrix could stop her, an exaggerated grown of annoyance following her exit.

“Well fine then, but the offer still stands,” Bellatrix whispered as she power-walked, lips just barely pressed against the shell of Hermione’s ear. When Hermione processed the words she stuttered, stopped, body halting and face flushing bright red with heat. No one else was in the hallway to see or interrupt as Bellatrix angled herself closer still with lips and tongue that traced the outline of cartilage, “Whenever you want it, little sister. Just ask. Need a snack and find yourself unable to reach the Kitchens? I’m here.”

Hermione barely managed to refrain from what she was sure would have been a moan, trying - _and failing_ \- to halt the sudden tremble running through all her limbs. “I’ll remember that Bella,” Hermione replied, tone soft and mind fighting off the _thrum_ that filled her core.

“Oh, I know you will. I am, after all, quite irresistible.”

“Mhm, quite.”

**_“What sort of pushback is that? Are you even trying? I’d never say that-”_ **

_“Mhm, quite,”_ Bellatrix imitated, voice mocking and nasal. The tone was familiar - _how many times had that been directed at her_ \- but not the same, teasing but in a good-natured way instead of the merciless bullying she had once endured. “Either way I’ll see you later today. I’m going to head on up to Herbology early, see if I can manage a snipe at a copy of next week’s test.”

**_“Of course she would…”_ **

“Alright then, I’ll see you later Bella.” Hermione, against all conscious thought, leaned in to punctuate her words with the softness of lips pressed to lips, warm and uncaring for anyone that might happen upon them. As the kiss broke and Bellatrix hurried on, Hermione was left to stand alone and steady the errant pace of her breathing and heart. It took moments, minutes maybe, but eventually she felt herself composed enough to follow swiftly out through the twisting corridors of the Slytherin dorms and out into the passages that lay beyond the Common Room.

Notwithstanding the heady need for _something_ that had quickened inside Hermione’s veins, this had been a rather unusual break from the routine that Hermione had formulated for herself. 

Not that she had a _true_ routine; beyond this being new, she merely coped with the strangeness in a way that left her with the least anxiety possible.

Meaning a lot, and more moments than she cared for where lungs burned and hands trembled.

Coping only worked so far, and - _so far_ \- had mainly consisted of waking up early in the morning with or without Bellatrix wedged tightly against her side. The woman would sometimes remain until the last moment, sometimes wander off as soon as the deed was done, but her comforting aroma had been a pleasant breeze amid the smell of burning wood. Except for this morning, that was.

After that, Hermione would fight her way through the still clinging remnants of sleep and dreams that stubbornly remained half-remembered jumbles of a confusing whole. From there she would wander as fast as she could into a too-warm shower in search of clean skin and time alone. Ignore all the mirrors embedded into the walls, ignore the pale expanse of her body and the lack of any true colour, ignore all the little feelings and nagging thoughts that Narcissa flooded into her mind.

Ignore it all.

Shove each and every drip of it back down deep inside herself, close her eyes, pretend that the body beneath her fingers was her own, pretend that she wasn’t tall enough to easily reach the tops of entranceways, pretend that she wasn’t thinner _here_ and thicker _there._ Pretend that the hair she combed was _brown_ instead of _blonde._ Pretend the eyes that peered back at her were _dark_ instead of _light._

Pretend.

If she were lucky she would end up before the Slytherin table with a headache and Narcissa meting out instructions and words for her to voice. She wasn’t quite sure yet what would constitute _bad_ luck, but she was somewhat sure she would be finding out today at some point. All the past days she had been accompanied by Bellatrix on one side, Andromeda on the other, the only sure points where she could breathe. And speaking of breathing…

_Andromeda._

Narcissa’s older sister - _by three minutes and twenty seconds_ \- was fast becoming a near-constant source of heady anxiety that Hermione _knew_ she would need to meet head-on at some point. It seemed so far that whenever Andromeda was in attendance at the table, Bellatrix would invariably find some way to heat them all up with innocent touches and sly smiles that stood out further and further with every minute that passed.

It was all too much for Hermione’s admittedly fragile constitution. Too much stimulation, too much _need,_ too many tied up feelings-

Well, to be fair, Hermione recognized that this was more her own issue to overcome than anything resulting as a fault of the sisters. Bellatrix managed to worm herself in between the narrow space of Hermione’s chest with an ease that was simply astounding. Andromeda had the enviable effect of stopping every bit of logic in her mind, shutting down all but baser instincts.

And Narcissa?

Well, she had a penchant for showing off rather delectable memories and emotions that left Hermione almost completely at her mercy.

It was simply too much-

“Cissa? Narcissa! Oy, anyone in there?”

Hermione came down from whatever cave inside her mind she had retreated to and back into a world where pale hands were snapping long - _delectable_ \- fingers in front of her eyes with a rapidity that _seemed_ like she should pay attention to. It took a second or two more before the voice suddenly resolved into something that Hermione’s brain could parse, familiar and urgent and accompanied by Andromeda’s chocolate eyes staring down at her quizzically through the slight tilt of her head.

**_“Oh Gods, you’re bloody hopeless. You know that, right?”_ **

_‘And_ **_you_ ** _could have spoken up sooner. I know you can intrude on me anywhere. Besides, I’m not-’_

“Oh, come on already. Cissa,” Andromeda tutted, reaching down to grab a hold of Hermione’s wrist with a grip that left sharp nails pressing painfully - _wonderfully_ \- into her skin. “Let’s go already. There’s no way I’m going to be late for Professor Baring, not this early in the year.”

Hermione stared dumbfounded for a second more as that luxurious heat pooled low in her belly yet again before a sudden _click_ inside her mind kickstarted the thinking portion of her brain into high gear. Her body lurched upwards from the chair at the same moment that she fought her breath against the sudden fear she would pass out.

_The Study of Ancient Runes, Modern Applications._

In an odd twist of fate, it was the only class that she shared with Andromeda; all the remainder of their coursework was split due to the sheer size of the Houses. Hermione had known her luck was bad, it had ended her up here after all, but she had never _truly_ contemplated just how terrible it could be. Here she was, alone and about to leave for her favourite subject, off to spend the two-hour block with her favourite teacher.

Who was, as of now, still just a student.

_‘Bloody fucking ridiculous. Who did I insult in a past life for this?’_

**_“An Elder Goddess, most likely. But we already knew all that. Now can we both agree that you won’t be pulling another stunt like in Charms?”_ **

Hermione let her silence form the answer to _that_ question. Narcissa still hadn’t let that go, even in the aftermath of having shown up everyone in the classroom. Well, except Bellatrix. Her sister had enjoyed it all too much, and though Hermione remained far more circumspect in her other courses, Bellatrix had clearly taken the Charms class as truth.

Hermione, and Narcissa, knew far more about their coursework than let on; prodigy though she was not, Narcissa had her own bastion of knowledge to pull from. In a more normal case this would have gone well, what with their invitation to the study group, and the hour after that focused on more NEWT level work. Bellatrix herself seemed to love the new situation just as much as she loved her sister, a fire having been lit that she hadn’t even known she’d desired.

Yet still, Narcissa was displeased.

**_“Of course I’m displeased. I had plans in place, I had my image, I had my cover, and it’s gone now. All of it, wasted in a single afternoon. You’re liable to ruin everything else at this rate.”_ **

_‘What- No! It’s not my fault,’_ Hermione countered, her mind already weary of the fight sparking to life. _‘I’m just smart, I just answer questions. It is what it is! Besides, isn’t this better? Everyone is wary of how much you know!’_

**_“And yet here you sit, wondering why I wouldn’t want that. Better to be a shadow than whatever idol cast it.”_ **

\---

The skeletal inside of the rather unadorned classroom was a relief to Hermione’s fragile state of mind. She had been here before, in her own world, in her own time, and the manner in which Professor Baring decorated - _or chose not to_ \- was a more relaxing balm than she had imagined. Modern, archaic, all of it simply _blank_ in a way that wouldn’t, and couldn’t, strip her from the ignorance of self that she had chosen to indulge in.

If nothing were too out of place, what was to stop her from imagining she was in her own life?

Spread around her were fifteen granite-topped worktables with enough of an even spacing to allow students to sit, or move, or gander about as they worked. Flat top, hard to chip, perfect to carve and replicate runes and glyphs. Even the chairs were designed to facilitate a more comfortable environment than something like Potions, or History of Magic. Cushioned, feet on rollers, arm-rests to take a breather.

Perfect really.

The clusters and cliques that immediately formed, each of them ignoring Hermione with a look of fear and sudden worry linked more to their status than anything she was sure Narcissa had ever done?

Less perfect.

_‘Is this your doing, or do they all just fear anyone with your last name instinctually?’_

**_“I’ve had six years to build up a reputation. Everyone in here knows exactly who I favour, and if I’m not the one to approach them, they aren’t to approach me.”_ **

Ah, of course. It only made sense that the self-imposed Queen of Slytherin would have arbitrary and inane rules surrounding companionship. Narcissa was, so far as Hermione had been able to suss out, absolutely driven by a need to rule and control her surroundings.

“Alright, alright. Students, let’s take our seats. Two to a desk please, and go ahead and get your parchment and quills out. Chop chop, all eyes up front when you’re done.”

Hermione readjusted herself and peered towards the front of the classroom, searching out from whom the voice had flowed. Blue eyes landed on a rather portly old man with not a speck of hair upon his head and thick coke-bottle glasses that sat proudly upon his nose. He _looked_ like a normal professor, if a little on the looser side of discipline, but amiable enough that she could not colour her expectations of him.

She wasn’t able to recognize him at all, however. Even trying to dredge up every portrait she had ever seen in the castle, there was no spark of knowledge. The only Runes Professor that she had ever laboured under had been Andromeda herself, and the Professor version of Narcissa’s sister was not one to dwell on the past or open up about past colleagues. Had she succeeded him directly, or had he ended up retiring earlier?

No matter. He would teach, she would learn - _or try_ \- and pass the class with as high of marks as she could earn. If there was _one_ thing that Hermione could give Narcissa, it was that.

Hermione moved to obey his request as dutifully as she could by immediately sitting at the nearest available table, her satchel dropping off the curve of her shoulder and settling against the table leg. Andromeda, just behind her and so very, _very_ close, sat beside her in a cheerful huff that had Hermione’s breath stilling within her chest.

**_“You’re ridiculous.”_ **

_‘Says the Queen of Ridiculous.’_

Their seat was in the front row, away from anyone else and still off to the side enough that Hermione felt safe to blush and tremble with the excitement - _and nervousness_ \- of learning with her crush. Besides, better she suck it up and learn to deal with this now, rather than later. Surely it was a better option to choose the Devil she _mostly_ knew over all the ones she didn’t. Especially seeing as this particular little Devil was beautiful and well-read and polite and smart _and had she mentioned pretty, already?_

**_“Yes. Moving on…”_ **

While the remainder of the students situated themselves behind desks and into seats, Professor Baring stood off to the side of his desk and twirled his wand; a levitation spell moving what looked to be a positively ancient-looking overhead projector up from under his desk and onto the wide top of it. Though, as Hermione looked on in a mixture of surprise and confusion, she could not help but dwell on the fact that in this instance it _wasn’t_ actually ancient. Sure it was an older model, by her own standards, and had mostly been wheeled to the front of the classroom on a rickety old cart, but this was _new-_ old. 

Time-travel certainly made mincemeat of her presuppositions when it came to technology and advancement. Still though, why in the world would a Wizard need an overhead projector?

_‘Merlin this is… unexpected? And where’s the power cord?’_

**_“The power-what? Hmm… You mean that Muggle rope? Muggle forms of Magic all seem quite embarrassingly dangerous.”_ **

_‘Well, that’s because it’s not really Magic. It’s-’_

**_“Electricity, yes, yes, I know that. You continuously seem to forget that I have access to all the wonderful little memories that you keep locked up inside your head. Every moment, every thought, every idea… I also happen to have a full backlog of you staring at that Tee Vee thing with a hand down-”_ **

_‘Alright, alright, alright! I get it.’_

Well then that at least explained how Narcissa knew about electricity, and what a power-cord would be used for. It failed, however, at revealing just how this twisted little inversion on Muggle technology would be useful to them here, or how it worked at all. The Gods all seemed to smile down upon her, however, and less than a minute later Professor Baring took out a rectangular piece of wood the colour of sand and placed it atop the glass portion of the projector. He muttered beneath his breath as his wand twirled and waved, tapping the hard metal shell of the machine twice until suddenly, with all the aplomb of magic, a floating image of the wooden block was revealed and spread across the air above it. Twisting, turning, the Professor manoeuvred their view of the item with his wand and magnified the face of it until it was nearly ten times as large as the actual block itself.

_‘Well that’s just bloody fucking brilliant.’_

**_“Witches and Wizards are far, far more inventive and intuitive than your kind would give them credit for. Why did Andi give up teaching like this? Everyone can see it comfortably from wherever they are.”_ **

_‘Well, you can see, right? How she’d pass out all those Runes? If I remember correctly, she once said she would spend days before classes started, shut away in a workshop to produce them all by hand. She preferred that, more than a rote lecture or mass-produced artefacts.’_

**_“...Noted. Though I don’t have time enough to see all of your history. Regardless, all that effort just for some students? It seems a waste of time. This? This is much simpler.”_ **

_‘Well, in that case, that’s your opinion. I suppose you’ll have a chance to ask her yourself, eventually. Besides, it makes sense that you’d have_ **_some_ ** _differences between yourself and your sisters, right?’_

Narcissa never responded, the simmering bulk of her presence fading away into what Hermione assumed was an honest attempt to review memories and thoughts. Invasive? Yes. But no more so than the act of inhabiting the witch’s body was.

Less so, in Hermione’s opinion.

“Alright then,” Baring’s voice boomed at them all, practically rupturing Hermione’s eardrums. “Shall we all begin then? Yes? Good. Now, if you’ll all take a look here- and _please_ try to recall your texts from last year, this Rune is a…”

\---

Before too long, thirty-odd minutes had passed them by in a blur of information and note taking that had Hermione’s quill only halting so that she could scrape up more ink and fresh parchment. 

Not that any of the information was _new_ per se, but it _was_ expected of her. Besides, how else would she be able to explain knowing things that they hadn’t been taught yet?

**_“Tell them the truth.”_ **

_‘No!’_

As seconds ticked on, minutes racked up, it became clear to Hermione that in the span of time since Andromeda had last attended these classes, the field of Runes had grown enormously. Each delicately traced curve of the Runes Professor Baring showed them had been learned and memorized not even six months into Hermione’s sixth year. Of course, the methods being used to teach were different, and with the amount of effort that Professor Baring put into his lesson, Hermione came away knowing just a _bit_ more than she had before.

But it was still all _old_ material. 

“Now then, who can tell me which of the Northern dialects this Rune has been carved in?” Professor Baring moved between his projector and the small stack of wooden blocks at his side, levitating a wafer-thin square of black onto the glass. The image that suddenly presented itself to them all was flat, scribed down the edges using only the lightest marks in repeating symbols that slowly converged towards the centre.

It was a unique design, very odd, and very old. And Hermione knew exactly what it was, and where it came from. Her hand was raised before she could even help herself, muscle memory forcing her into the movement with such speed that Narcissa never even had the chance to bark out orders for her to stop.

“Hmm, yes, Ms. Black?”

“Anc-”

“-ient Aramanti, a Rune that was designed to symbolize what we now refer to as Aguamenti, or the Water Summoning Spell. It was frequently used to enhance the properties of natural wellsprings or drought-stricken areas.”

Hermione hadn’t answered that. She was sure she had started to do so, but the sounds of _someone else_ had stolen away her voice. Her mouth opened. Closed. Opened again, this time closing almost fully for the peeking flesh of her tongue as she wet her suddenly dry lips. She turned herself slightly, just enough, just a bit, eyes catching sight of a rather smug-looking Andromeda. The girl was still staring straight ahead to the front of the classroom with a smile playing on her face and hands clasped demurely atop her desk, reams of brown curls - _so similar to Bella’s_ \- falling off her shoulders.

_‘Did- did she just-’_

**_“Yes, she did. My know-it-all sister. If only she would apply that damned brain of hers to-”_ **

_‘Okay, okay, okay! Understood. I didn’t think she’d be so outgoing in class. You and Bella certainly aren’t.’_

“Hmm, good answer Andromeda. You got it right, including the uses. But, I was asking your sister. We’ll just stick to first names from now on, shall we?”

Andromeda appeared to freeze up after a moment or two, Professor Baring’s words hitting home, her smile dropping and head cocking to one side. And then, so very slowly that Hermione wasn’t even quite sure it was happening, her head turned to pin Hermione down with a darkened gaze.

_‘Oh, Gods. Oh-Gods-oh-Gods-oh-Gods-’_

Black orbs filled more with chocolate than the coal and tar of Bellatrix, a wild mane of auburn locks that bunched and looped and draped all around her. Brows bunched up, quite clearly holding back a question, and something very nearly approaching wonderment gracing her face.

Confusion, through and through.

“Now! As Andromeda has correctly pointed out, this Rune could be used to mimic what we now call Aguamenti. Can anyone tell me the _other_ half of this Rune?”

Even distracted as she was, Hermione’s arm reached into the air with just as much speed as before. Narcissa was tugging back ineffectually, just barely even there in Hermione’s conscious mind. If anything the modicum of resistance that the witch was putting up only made her hand waver in the air as if she were _pleading_ to be called upon before anyone else.

“Yes, Narcissa?”

Hermione lowered her hand and cleared her throat, nervous despite volunteering herself for the answer.

“Sir, the second portion of the Rune is designed to leave it floating; specifically it’s a variation on the _Leviosa_ Charm, levitation that would allow it to sit atop a column or body of water. If laid flat, it would send a spout into the air.”

Baring looked flabbergasted by the time she finished speaking, glasses sliding down to the very tip of his nose and wand hanging limply in his hand. It took him a second before he seemed able to compose himself, but once he did the glasses were shoved back as he looked animatedly around the room.

“That’s correct! Five points to you, Andromeda, and fifteen to you, Narcissa. Just lovely! Now, before we carry on…”

Hermione’s ears lost the sound of Baring’s voice as a hand fell down upon her knee, the movement startling and _warm_ and only just light enough to stop her from screaming out loud. For the half a second she was turning her head, Hermione could have _sworn_ she was staring at Bellatrix and not Andromeda, the force of the girl’s stare was so pointed and glaringly _hot._ But no, this was not Bellatrix. Nor was this the Professor from her memories.

A younger version? Yes. A younger version still unburdened by the world and whatever had led her to marry Theodore Tonks. Still gorgeous, though.

Hermione was sure of that.

_“How did you do that?”_ Andromeda whispered as fast as she could, almost as if the words themselves were burning as they came up her throat.

**_“Tell her I’m inside you! Tell her you’re a traveller from another world, I’m begging you, please just don’t-”_ **

“I know quite a lot of things,” Hermione replied, voice somehow steady despite the horrified ramblings of Narcissa’s desires.

Andromeda, seeming to be satisfied with the answer for the moment, leaned back into her seat with eyes still narrowed and steel in her gaze.

**_“Oh Gods, what’ve you done?”_ **

\---

The remaining half of their class continued on very much as it had during Hermione’s first Charm’s period. A question would be put forth to the classroom, both Andromeda and Hermione would race to raise their hands, and then put forth the correct answer; the student body might have been stupified initially, but eventually they seemed to catch on and all gave up in favour of letting them have it.

The only real difference that Hermione was able to discern was that where Bellatrix had been answering out of some form of jealousy and desire to best her, Andromeda simply answered for the sake of it.

She _liked_ showing off how much she knew, whether she was called on or not.

There was no hesitation to her movements nor her answers, there were no pithy glances spared or frustrated moments that resulted in a huff of air when Hermione beat her out. If anything, it seemed that Andromeda was actually _enjoying_ the competition. It was a welcome surprise, for sure, but one that Hermione almost immediately took to.

**_“Yes, well… Andi has always been the one most willing to show off for others approval.”_ **

_‘Others approval? Or yours? And by show off, do you mean excel in class?’_

**_“You know what it is I mean, Little Witch.”_ **

Over and over they continued, sparring with hands held high and eyes that pierced, Professor Baring’s voice soon struggling to keep up and provide them with questions to answer. Andromeda managed to keep apace of Hermione’s responses, and soon enough the class became only them and the words they shouted out. Andromeda’s gaze softened as the hour wore on, turning from suspicion and excitement to something more feral, more _refined._

It was a look at once both mesmerizing and tantalizing and _filled_ with heat. It was a look that spoke more towards accomplishment and the appreciation of hard facts, of desire for knowledge and a thirst for new information. Hermione _loved_ that look, loved the perfect little way that it managed to lift Professor Tonks’s smile, loved the way it had widened her eyes and been so _warm-_

**_“If this won’t shut you up then I don’t know what in Merlin’s fucking bloomers will.”_ **

Narcissa’s voice was a sudden break to Hermione’s attention. So sudden, in fact, that the arm that had been steadily growing weary with exertion suddenly fell limp and unmoving at her side. A myriad of emotions descended upon Hermione’s mind, images as clear as crystal and intent just as much so.

_‘What-’_

_~~~_

_Heat pounded through Hermione’s body with the thrumming burn of fire set loose. Her veins, strong things, quick things, powerful lines of blood- licked into wickedness by the beating of a heart that seemed to have no end. Their bodies lay entwined upon a bed far larger than any Hermione could remember sleeping in, a monstrosity of softness beneath her burning body. She was nude, naked, bare skin, body free to the world and succumbing to the fingers of another._

_Andromeda was pinned beneath her with blown-out pupils and skin flushed deep and red, her lips just barely open and breath panting out to blow across the burning portions of Narcissa’s skin._

_**Her** skin. _

_A hand reached out between them, sharpened nails raking bright lines from collarbone to pelvis, four distinct scratches that positively burned with pain and pleasure. Hermione pulled back, sat up, straddled the witch’s legs-_

_~~~_

_‘Fuck!’_ Hermione slammed back into her own consciousness, awareness sparking amid the edges of a memory still too powerful for her to ignore. Her heart was attempting an escape from the delicate bones of her ribs, drumming again and again to a beat she could not hear.

“-me the third Rune of Aleph’s Secondary Repository?”

The Professor was speaking, the Professor finished speaking-

**_“Don’t you fucking dare-”_ **

Hermione dared. She was a Lion after all, wasn’t she? 

Her hand shot up into the air just a fraction of a second before Andromeda’s, the answer spilling forth in a rush of air that left her nearly bowled over the table with fingers spasming as she gripped the granite top. Andromeda had conceded the moment that Baring called Narcissa’s name, pinning Hermione once again with _that_ stare, just as another sweetly ringing bolt of desire settled between Hermione’s legs.

Hermione was left, almost, unfortunately, with the very uncomfortable desire to rub herself raw on the nearest body.

**_“Fine then, I’ll show you another one.”_ **

_~~~_

_Her body was pressed back against the comforters, three fingers stretching her with a burning heat that attempted, unsuccessfully, to settle the aching desire in her heart. Those fingers were strong, agile, fucking her just as best they could-_

_Not enough._

_Her free hand left a clutch of darkened curls to rub a pattern against her own body, overheated nerves sending shockwaves of pleasure through her core, through her chest, through her head; Andromeda perched above her, looking down with **that** look- _

_~~~_

“-minus, at which point the trailing edge is called what?”

Hermione hadn’t even heard the words. Couldn’t understand whatever the hell Baring was asking. How could she? There was no way to make it through whatever Narcissa was showing her, no way to properly right herself after viewing those memories.

She was _sure_ that those moments had been memories, real experiences rather than some heated simulacra. Surely the heated rhythm of desire that had been pumped into her heart was _real._

_‘You win…’_

**_“About time.”_ **

\---

“Hey! Wait up, Cissa!”

Hermione turned to find Andromeda slowly stalking forward, satchel clutched to her chest and eyes wide with questions. The corridor was deserted, and Hermione slowed to a halt to allow Andromeda to catch up to her shoulder before continuing onwards as best she could.

“How’d you do it?” Andromeda asked, voice filled with what Hermione felt was a genuine interest.

How could she answer that? Surely she couldn’t just admit what had happened-

**_“You can, and you should.”_ **

_‘No!’_

She also couldn’t simply say that she had studied. Sure, a Professor or two might buy that response, but Andromeda? She would likely know her sister far too well for something so flimsy as that to pass inspection.

“Come on, Cissa,” Andromeda perked up, looping their arms together and guiding them both around a bend in the hall. “And don’t feed me that nonsense about _knowing things._ You’ve never been like that before, so spill.”

Hermione swallowed thickly as the flush that had only just disappeared roared back into existence with no sign of stopping. In her fluster she opened with the first thing that came to mind.

“I wanted to impress you.”

_‘Oh fuck-’_

**_“Well, at least you managed to tell the truth, Little Witch.”_ **

Hermione, who up until this point had been walking even and straight, suddenly found herself swung around by the arm that Andromeda had looped within her own. Movement halted and all sound seeming to drain out from the world, all quiet and all focused on the woman standing before her.

“Oh. Really?” Andromeda’s question was stilted, laced with a foreign heat and a lilting of her head, eyes sweeping up and down Narcissa’s figure. “Is that so?”

_‘Fuck.’_

**_“If you ask her nicely, I’m sure she’ll say yes.”_ **

“I just thought- well, I mean I figured that you’d appreciate if I were a bit more active during class. I mean I’m nowhere near your level but still-”

“It’s alright, really. I get it, Cissa.”

Andromeda’s smile had only deepened as they stood there, a hand laying upon Hermione’s arm in a way that she hadn’t even noticed. Andromeda’s thumb was moving in slow patterns against the rough fabric of Hermione’s uniform, contact and sensation all building up to more than she had ever thought she would achieve. Bellatrix was an absolute powerhouse of desire and sexuality, constantly abusing innocent little touches that managed to burn straight through to Hermione’s soul. But Andromeda?

Andromeda would be the death of her.

Hermione swallowed around the sudden knot in her throat, attempting a demure look but sure that it could be seen through. She kept her smile light, flipped the length of blonde hair away from her face, and shuffled in place as gracefully as she could.

“Well, since you’ve decided to take a more active role, would you mind joining me for a study session in the Library tonight? Say, eight?”

_‘Oh fuck. Oh-fuck-oh-fuck-oh-fuck-’_

**_“Oh, Merlin’s tits- Let me-”_ **

_“I’d love to, Andi. See you then?”_

“Great!” Andromeda’s face lit up with a smile, body bouncing upwards in excitement, “I’ll see you then!”

Without another word or touch, Andromeda left Hermione standing there with a loosened smile and vacant eyes that she _knew_ would look ridiculous-

She didn’t care.

“Oh Gods yes…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More things will happen next!


	6. The Professor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unedited  
> Somehow back from nowhere  
> Short chap  
> \----  
> Right aligned, bolded and italicized "words", is Narcissa speaking to Hermione  
> Left aligned, italicized 'words', is Hermione speaking to Narcissa within her mind.  
> Left aligned, normal format "words", is Hermione speaking  
> Center aligned, italicized "words", are Hermione and Narcissa speaking together  
> Three tilde and center italicized ~~~words~~~ are impressions/images/memories that Narcissa forces Hermione to view

Hermione had absolutely _no_ idea what it was that she should be doing.

 **_“It says it right there, on the bloody tin,_ ** _exactly_ **_what you should be doing.”_ **

There was a spread of tinctures on the table before her, a myriad of scents and passions that Hermione hadn’t exactly known existed. There were bottles of true perfumes; shaped glass that looked like dragons or serpents, ravens or chimaeras, each of them filled with a varying combination of scents that were handcrafted and _expensive._ There were also thin tubes in differing colours, some she recognized as lipsticks and mascara, eyeliner and _something_ else, but they were all opulent and unmarked and the longer that Hermione stared at them the more confused she became.

 **_“This is the easy part, Hermione. If you can’t do this, how can you do_ ** _anything_ **_involving my life?”_ **

Hermione had seen Narcissa’s makeup before. She’d even used it. But _this_ seemed to have come from nowhere, and the more Narcissa had explained it to her the more she’d lost her mind. What was the point of having an expensive, one of a kind makeup kit, if you _needed_ to have two more for separate levels of occasions? And why in the bloody hell did spending the afternoon studying with her - _their_ \- sister count so high on Narcissa’s level of social engagement?

_~~~_

_Andromeda was naked, splayed onto the bed with her hands tied off by ropes hidden behind the headboard-_

_~~~_

“Fine! I get it!” she screamed, palms at her temples as she attempted to force the images away. 

Narcissa’s influence faded and Hermione moved to continue adorning herself with Narcissa’s makeup, wondering just _barely_ how she was supposed to go about this when her most recent memory - _and indulgence_ \- with such items had been the Yule Ball held at Hogwarts almost two years ago. She’d never had a reason to understand it beyond that, none of her peers had gone after her - _or rather none of the ones she’d wanted_ \- and there’d been no one for her to impress. 

No one to teach her.

She could have tried to learn on her own but the effort required to do that had seemed ridiculous. She’d just felt there’d been no reason whatsoever.

**_“It would have helped you, but you’re pretty enough on your own. I’m surprised you didn’t just dive into it, seeing as you’re voracious for every other bit of knowledge.”_ **

Hermione refrained from acknowledging Narcissa’s comment, focused instead on what was in front of her no matter how much it seemed an impossible task.

Which it wasn’t. She _knew_ deep down that she was simply stalling for time, and she _knew_ that stalling for time wouldn’t get her anywhere. She’d done this to herself and the more she waited the more she would feel burdened by anxiety and nervousness. The pit within her stomach would build - _was building_ \- and sucking away every happy thought, her heart turning cold as she fought for breath. She steadied herself on the edges of the vanity and stared deep into pupils blown wide, vision wavering-

**_“Stop!”_ **

The voice interrupted whatever was happening within Hermione’s mind and she jumped back from the mirror in surprise. Her fingertips were white where she’d gripped the wood and a fierce tingle was _slowly_ beginning to fade away. Her breath began to even out as she fought to steady the pace of her heart and slowly - _almost imperceptibly_ \- she retreated from the ledge within her mind.

 **_“You were about to have a panic attack. We need to work on that, understood?”_ ** Narcissa stated, her voice within Hermione’s mind brokering no argument.

 _‘Sorry,’_ Hermione replied. _‘I’m just, I’m not used to this._ **_Any_ ** _of this.’_

There was no immediate response to her explanation and - _for the first time since Hermione had arrived_ \- she felt something like _sympathy_ emanating from the passenger in her head. Or perhaps the feeling was more like pity, but Hermione wouldn’t argue with it.

She’d take whatever help she could get.

**_“Just listen to me, Hermes. Just do as I say, and we’ll both be fine. Alright?”_ **

Hermione’s lips quirked, _‘Hermes?’_

 **_“It sounds better to my ears. And besides, you’re riding my body. Allow me_ ** _some_ **_measure of decision making.”_ **

Hermione hummed an affirmative to Narcissa’s words and drew in a deep breath, her hands settling back atop the vanity as she searched out what Narcissa wanted. 

Soft words, soft voice, a fluttering within Hermione’s chest. The action of listening and then following direction was enough to have her calming further, mind pulled back as she moved with a purpose that’d been lacking during her previous panic. Slowly the image within the mirror began to change; nothing major happened to her but it was enough of a difference to highlight Narcissa’s beauty in a way that she’d not done for classes, a shift towards something more refined. If she blinked and thought back on memories now old she could spot the similarities to the Narcissa she’d seen.

Regal. Head held high, chin out, lips a strike of colour and blue eyes completing the picture.

By the time that they were finished she had only a few minutes left to hurry off towards the library, and Hermione found herself rather content with that fact. Narcissa might have resented their dual-position within her body but she _loved_ her sister - _though Hermione knew that calling it a sisterly love was an understatement_ \- and this odd happening was somehow allowing her to rekindle whatever had been broken with Andromeda. The witch within Hermione’s skull was willing to offer up facts and tidbits, her voice calm and so bright that Hermione half-wondered if she were enjoying it.

They closed in on the library swiftly and Hermione nearly stalled out beneath the entranceway. She looked out across the floor to where Andromeda sat at a table, her body highlighted and framed by the fading light of the sun that poured in through the window. A wreath of flame from a hanging chandelier was throwing light across her as well, a dancing glow that Hermione found to be gorgeous beyond description. Andromeda’s hair was unleashed upon her shoulders in a curtain of ringlets, some of them brown and auburn while others were lit through with faint strands of red. Hermione’s heart skipped a beat as she stood there and stared, and she could feel Narcissa deep inside of her doing the same. 

Something lovely and warm took over them both at that moment, a pool of heat dropping low in their belly.

But - _eventually_ \- the moment had to end.

Andromeda turned a page of her book and looked over, whatever preternatural senses she had for sensing a sister leading her to turn and smile. It was - _bright, warm, filled with honey and something much like love_ \- slight and shallow but it was also inviting, and Hermione found she could do nothing more than stare.

**_“Come on then. Let’s get this over with, Little Witch.”_ **

Hermione obeyed Narcissa’s words without a single ounce of hesitation. With halting steps, she meandered towards where Andromeda sat and slid her fingers across the witch’s shoulders as a greeting as she passed.

Andromeda greeted them, “Good to see you too, Cissa.”

Hermione smiled - _Andromeda’s too infectious to ignore_ \- and nodded, sitting mutely in her chair.

“So, I’m thinking we start with Charms, and then move onto Runes. Flitwick wouldn’t shut it about you two being so far ahead of everyone else, and the only real question _I_ have is how the hell you two learned so much so fast.”

 **_“She’s got us there.”_ ** Narcissa’s voice was smug, heat radiating into her heart and Hermione’s cheeks.

Hermione swallowed and fought her nerves, “Like I said, I just wanted to impress you. That’s all, really.”

The answer seemed shallow but appeared to satisfy Andromeda for the moment, and she responded only with a slight narrowing of her eyes. When she was sure that Hermione wasn’t going to say anything more she nodded and began to pull out books and parchment, quills and ink. Little snapshots of their lesson plans were opened up and spread out on the table for the both of them to pull from.

The first topic presented was on the rather fine - _to Hermione’s dismay_ \- tuned art of Ritualistic Enchantments. It was a branching part of Charms that Hermione lacked knowledge in, but that Narcissa seemed to have in spades. She’d not been lying when she told the blonde witch that what she knew of Rituals was considered Dark Magic; it was a class that had been banned from Hogwarts and there were no public instructions on them. The Fidelius itself only managed to skirt the issue due to the man who’d created it, and the immense difficulty in pulling it off without killing anyone.

It _would_ be used, and it _needed_ to be understood, at least according to Albus Dumbledore.

It seemed her lack of firsthand knowledge wasn’t _that_ much of a detraction though; Andromeda was just as fine a study partner as she was a teacher, and soon enough Hermione found herself thrown into a rhythm with the girl. Andromeda would ask her a question, look up - _physically, Narcissa was the tallest of the trio and Hermione was sitting with as regal a stature as she could thanks to Narcissa’s influence_ \- and smile in a way that captured their heart while they waited on an answer. Whenever she was slow on the uptake Andromeda would wait, help them to work through it. As soon as it was solved the situation would twist into something from Hermione’s wildest dreams, a fantasy made a reality. Andromeda would praise her with soft words, soft looks, an appreciation for the deep talent they - _together, and finally not opposed_ \- possessed.

 **_“I have to admit, you’re not fucking this up quite so bad as I’d imagined you would have,”_ ** Narcissa complimented her, begrudging but honest.

When they had finished with that assignment and moved off onto Runes, Hermione gave an internal squeal of delight - _only to immediately be called out by Narcissa, her words a cold reproach for how obnoxious Hermione had sounded_ \- and set up her notes. Looping cordage and pictures in her book were brought to bear, designs she’d created after class and during lunch, all of it put to paper in a way that was easier for her to understand and show.

“Where’d you learn that one?” Andromeda asked, her hand crossing Hermione’s as she leaned in to point at one particular design.

Hermione tried to swallow and nearly failed. Andromeda leaned up right against her as she pointed out that rune, her shoulder pressing into Hermione’s - _Narcissa’s_ \- and cheek deceptively close to their lips. Hermione could feel her blood rush off to colour her own cheeks, lips parting as she took in the subtle scent of Andromeda’s perfume. It was something cherry, something spice, something that mixed and melded with the product she used in her hair until it was all Hermione could smell. The press of her body and the heat carried through their robes was a distraction of the best kind, and she sighed, leaning into the press of Andromeda’s form.

Slowly - _after some seconds of having been asked_ \- Narcissa influenced her into turning to stare deep into Andromeda’s eyes, an ochre spark hidden within her depths. 

“Cissa,” Andromeda spoke, her voice husky and _strong._ “Morgana to Cissa, are you in the belfry?”

**_“That’s us, you dolt.”_ **

Hermione blinked, gulped back her surprise at their lack of distance and forced herself to speak through a stutter, “Yes! Sorry, sorry. Just, it’s. _Well._ I just checked a few books out from the library, that’s all.” 

“Oh?” Andromeda looked quizzically at her, “Really? When’d you have the time for that? I don’t remember any books at home that dealt with it.”

**_“Just tell her the truth, please-”_ **

“I came in between classes on the first day, there are a few books detailing it in the Restricted Section.”

**_“Fuck you.”_ **

_‘Would if I could,’_ she replied, and before she had a chance to second guess those words a vision passed into her mind-

~~~

_A curling image of a woman wrapped around her, the_ **_real_ ** _her, complete with tangled hair and starstruck eyes, another woman at her side and slowly mouthing at a love bite, one more whispering in her ear-_

_~~~_

**_“I’ll keep that in mind, Little Witch.”_ **

Narcissa refrained from commenting after that, a sullen sort of heart pervading the inner portions of Hermione’s mind instead.

Andromeda continued to stare at her for just a little longer and then shrugged as if that explained everything. She fell back into her role with ease and slowly she began to ratchet up the questioning and instruction until Hermione felt that _this_ was the woman who had taught her. She would ask Hermione a question, expect an answer promptly, and then deliver Hermione a beautiful smile - _that sent her heart into a flutter, those eyes and those_ ** _lips_ ** \- before moving on.

Hermione did her best to keep up with the pace. It wasn’t easy - _not truly hard, either_ \- but she enjoyed it, brought up salient points and provided alternatives that stumped Andromeda. It brought her no small measure of amusement to be giving the past version of her professor information that the _older_ version had once taught _her._

“Good!” Andromeda exclaimed, her voice a low hush despite the absence of the librarian.

The praise managed to bring something up from Hermione’s core, and Narcissa latched onto it with a swiftness that left her reeling. Every little word, every subtle action, ever faint bit of praise was _magnified._ Narcissa wouldn’t let her forget the words and Andromeda seemed incapable of _not_ complimenting her in some fashion. Before too long Hermione was breathing harshly, fanning herself, trying to keep calm when Andromeda pressed a hand to her neck and whispered out a faint cooling charm.

“Cissa”, Andromeda started, her voice low and eyes searching as she tilted Hermione’s head until they were facing one another. “Are you alright? I know we didn’t exactly leave things on good terms but this doesn’t seem like you. What’s wrong?”

What was wrong? What terms _had_ they ended on? Hermione was lost here. Unsure of herself - _or an appropriate answer_ \- she could only stare. Narcissa had been vague and Bellatrix had been just the same, so exactly what did that leave Hermione with?

Nothing.

She didn’t know what she could do to make sense of this distress, or calm Andromeda’s worries. She couldn’t placate her own fear, let alone Andromeda’s.

Hermione sighed and decided it would be easiest to do what felt _right_ at that moment.

And what felt right was - _naturally_ \- kissing her.

Full lips met her own, and there was but a single squeak of surprise before Andromeda fell into it, returning the kiss with a fiery passion. It was nothing at all like Bellatrix’s kisses and yet it was so similar that they might have been the same person. Hermione tasted roses on Andromeda’s lips, something hidden beneath a spice that burned her lips and made them tingle. She pressed herself forward, wrapped one hand around the back of Andromeda’s neck and held tightly onto the witch as she deepened the kiss. She pressed further, pulled her closer, wished with all her heart in that moment that they could be _alone._

When she pulled back she nipped Andromeda’s lip, pulled and released. She could taste the witch on her tongue, felt heat _pouring_ from her heart and core. Breath stuttered out uncontrollably as she fought to regain control of herself. She’d wanted to go and do that since her fourth year at Hogwarts, and while it wasn’t the same as kissing her professor it was _better_ because it had actually happened.

At that moment Hermione would have gladly done whatever it was that Narcissa asked of her so long as she could do more of _that._

Andromeda seemed to be at a loss for words, her gaze foggy and body slowly swaying as she leaned back into her chair. Then - _as if a switch had been flicked_ \- she returned to herself, eyes clearing up as she jumped up from her seat. Her mouth parted and something like a cold wash fell across them both. Andromeda stammered and started to grab at her things-

“Andromeda, no, please wait-” Hermione tried to stop her, hand reaching out only to be slapped away when Andromeda noticed it.

“No!” Andromeda said, her voice a whisper twisted into a scream. _“No._ I want to but _no,_ we can’t. You can’t, I can’t, and by all the Gods above, Bellatrix _can’t._ I told you already, just stop this, _stop it!”_

The witch stood back from Hermione and with a flourish of her robes she swept up the last bits of her study materials and was out the door with nary a look back.

 **_“Well,”_ ** Narcissa hummed, her voice darkly amused. **_“That went better than I’d have ever hoped for.”_ **

Hermione sank down into her chair and laid her forehead flat onto the table, _‘Meaning what, exactly?’_

A spread of dark mirth erupted from wherever Narcissa resided, **_“Meaning that I thought she was going to hex us. It seems, Little Witch, that you’re even getting through to dear Andi.”_ **


	7. Magnification

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was Beta'd by the wonderful _Appended_ & [ gay4McGrath](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gay4McGrath/profile), it's mad appreciated, so if someone reads this chap, give em' a check!

Regardless of her aversion to it, the hours and minutes ticked over, rolling from one onto the next without anything to stop their inexorable march.

Hermione - _Narcissa, some mixture of them both, roiling with the pressure of their souls_ \- was slowly beginning to lose herself within the crushing monotony of her situation. Each and every single tome that she picked up to read was a fast track to nowhere; each question recurved back to further investigation, and those questions arising during her search ended in stymied answers and broken ideas. 

Narcissa remained a constant - _and somewhat grating_ \- presence; the original owner of her new body was preoccupied with influencing as much as she could from within her new perch, and Hermione found herself increasingly falling down into their shared dream-space, now that Narcissa had learned to somewhat direct it. Their nights were long and filled with Bellatrix, and the young witch’s presence was just barely enough to stem the desire boiling within Narcissa’s - _Hermione’s_ \- head.

Andromeda had seen fit to remain aloof since their little _incident;_ the witch was brooding darkly, still managing to throw them odd looks and furtive - _sharply pointed, curious yet accusatory_ \- glances whenever she thought that they weren’t looking. But that was all, and aside from that little stalemate, there seemed no new ground covered. Their trenches were dug, and Hermione found the prospect of bridging them more frightening than ever.

October was a force of nature that fell down upon them with endless thunderclaps and chills; heavy snow drifted in from the North with biting frost just in front of it, piles of white flakes making mounds against the Castle’s flagstones and then disappearing just as quickly as they’d arrived. Hermione remained steadfast in her approach to this odd life, determinedly acting as best she could in all her classes, and her study under Flitwick’s advanced group was proving to be just as informative as ever. There was even a rather significant project on the near-horizon in Divination, and even though Hermione disliked the subject she was dead set on excelling to the best of her abilities, no matter Narcissa’s protests.

The downside of that, however, was that she _hated_ Divination. Totally, wholly, and with even more vigour than she had in her own timeline. It seemed that whatever malignant force of magic had wanted her to suffer had also desired that she hurt; not only was Narcissa _aware_ of Hermione’s distaste for this branch of magic, she _relished_ in Hermione’s discomfort.

Hermione sauntered into that cloistered off classroom and Narcissa fell away, or remained at the just the barest periphery of Hermione’s awareness so as to send out sharp barbs and a witty, running commentary. So, alone - _in spirit if not in body_ , - Hermione needed to take up the reins and _try_ to do her very best. With a younger version of Trelawney. _The_ Trelawney. The old, moth-eaten, perpetually owlish, brandy-sipping-passing-out-in-the-halls _Trelawney;_ the old woman who spoke to crickets and tea leaves as though they were both sentient beings.

 _That_ Trelawney.

 _‘Fuck.’_ Hermione glanced all around as everyone else in the classroom paired off, each of them quite happy with their partners and ready to begin their assignment. 

The project’s overall gist was rather simple, really; they were to take multiple readings in tea leaves for at least one week straight and then combine all that information with the words printed in their textbooks. The final product of their efforts was to develop a prediction that was at least fifty percent accurate for the remainder of the school year. The specific nature of their project - _that they would have to confine themselves with looking forward to the next seven months at most, and that they needed to ensure that the information was tailored to their partner, and not some blanket pronouncement that any one particular person could claim_ \- had meant that they would need a partner they hadn’t worked with before. No close friends, groups split so they could work with different Houses. None of them could very well make a _prediction_ based on false information, or foresight gained through interpersonal relations.

‘They’ll graduate,’ certainly wasn’t enough for the old coot who ran the class.

“Oh! Oh, now this, this is _odd,”_ Trelawney piped up, startling Hermione back into her body and out of the rather sultry memory that Narcissa had visited upon her when their shared attention had begun to wander. “You’ve… well, you’ve _changed.”_

Hermione stilled, frozen and hyper-aware as she raised an eyebrow. She stared at the woman - _who was staring back just the same, her wide eyes magnified by too-large lenses, blinking slowly and steadily_ \- for a second or two, long and hard, nails tap-tap-tapping against her mug, a mimicry of what her memories showed Narcissa impatiently doing at a time like this. Picking up these little idiosyncrasies, little mannerisms was becoming far easier the longer that time wore on. Her skin was slowly becoming a less distinct role that she was playing and more a life she’d simply slipped into. Whether or not that was a comfort that forbode ill or well wasn’t for Hermione to decide.

Though she had to admit it made it far, far easier for her to navigate the flow of inter-House politics that Narcissa had installed herself atop of.

Trelawney finally noted the naked suspicion and derision within Hermione’s eyes, the aloofness of her unrelenting gaze.

“Not that it’s a bad thing! No, not a bad way at all. Not that, not that. Just, well I mean it’s just that you’re different.”

Hermione exhaled forcibly through her nose - _calm, steady, a rock within a stream, nothing was amiss_ \- and nodded, deciding then and there that she need pay no more attention to it. A second passed between them before her composure was complete, and Hermione peered down into her cup.

**_‘If this were one of your Muggle Rorschach tests, I’d say that looks like a threesome.”_ **

\---

Hermione tensed up and nearly broke her quill when Bellatrix’s foot collided with her shin, _again._ It was the third time in as many minutes. It _had_ to mean something.

**_“Oh, please. Shut it, would you? You know exactly what she’s doing.”_ **

_‘I do not!’_

Hermione turned all her indignation at Narcissa’s accusation towards the witch in question, her blue eyes darkening minutely as she stared at a cheekily grinning Bellatrix. The witch was incorrigible at best, absolutely unstoppable at worst, and persistently determined to make Hermione flush. Narcissa. 

_Whoever._

The students seated around them hadn’t seemed to notice the under-the-table flirting though, and when another five minutes had passed them by, Hermione felt it again. It was different though. Whereas before it had been the sharp point of Bellatrix’s shoe digging into the hard bone of Hermione’s shin, now it was a hosiery-clad foot hooking around the back of her calf muscle and pulling, Bellatrix smiling at her with sharp teeth and eager eyes. Hermione let her leg hang there for a moment, held up and supported by Bellatrix, and then blushed, full and red, lifting her leg away and then _glaring._

**_“You see? It’s exactly like I said.”_ **

_‘You’ll both be the death of me, I swear it.’_

**_“Well, let’s hope not. I’m fairly worried that if you die, I die too.”_ **

Hermione felt the flush drain away from her face at that, and she leaned back into her chair with a huff. The sheaf of parchments atop the desk was interspersed with textbooks and notes, questions she’d been working on with those gathered around her. It was just as prim and proper as Narcissa demanded, just as neat and orderly as she desired. A quick glance around her confirmed that no one seemed to have noticed her sudden shift in shades. Furthermore, it seemed that if she were able to calm her heart and avoid Bellatrix’s annoying flirtation, she just might make it out of this study session with her dignity intact.

Well, she’d _hoped_ for that. Unfortunately, her wishes went unanswered. She felt a sliver of magic crawling along the underside of the table, unseen power spreading out to reach wherever Hermione had been pressed to the wood. It ran up along her skin, sank deep into her muscles, and followed the connections of bones and ligaments towards a heavy spot within her chest. An inundation of _heat_ and _desire_ had been set upon her, flooded her, and Hermione found herself forced to squeeze her thighs together, bite her lip, and hope that no one else could tell what was happening. 

Whatever magic was infiltrating her body was just as insidious as the dark witch seated before her; Hermione’s arousal suddenly blossomed into fruition as she sat there, quiet and demure, her insides roiling as her blood began to pump faster, and faster. Suddenly the press of her thighs just wasn’t enough, and somewhere in the back of her mind, Hermione heard Narcissa begin to laugh. Hermione managed to stutter out a response when the person next to her asked a question and finished the conversation just as quickly as she could before staring, blankly, at the pages spread out before her.

A second passed her by, then two, and soon enough she was on the edge of her seat and barely suppressing the urge to moan and scream. Her skin was alight with fire, burning everywhere that her clothing pressed down upon her. It was suffocating, itching, heated and filled with _desire._ The sensitivity of her nerves had been jacked up to eleven and seemed unable to come down properly. She could feel dampness leaking from her core, a fire looking to be staunched, and soon enough the lip she’d trapped between her teeth began to bleed. She stared at Bellatrix and watched the woman - _whose face was just as flushed as her own_ \- and wondered just _why_ Bellatrix thought this was the best way - _the best time_ \- to be a cad, and why _here_ of all places. She could simply break apart whatever enchantment Hermione placed on her door at night, so why bother with _this?_ They could be caught out, discovered, mocked and then run off-

**_“No one will ever do that to us. I won’t let them, ever.”_ **

Narcissa’s words were less of a reassurance than the witch might have imagined them to be, and Hermione felt herself slipping into anxiety and nervousness even as Bellatrix’s spell ratcheted up another notch. Now her fingernails were digging grooves into the wood of the desk, and the blood was rushing against her ears so loudly that it drowned out everything else, left her with closed eyes and a short fuse.

**_“Just cast it. I know that you know the general counter-curse, and I know you can do it wandlessly, wordlessly. Do. It.”_ **

Hermione hesitated, and Bellatrix cut the spell short not a single second later as their Professor returned to the room.

\---

The midpoint of October brought with it the winds of change.

_Progress!_

Of a sort, at least. A text had hinted at being able to conjure up bodies for lost souls, spirits that hadn’t died but were instead displaced from their original forms. Unfortunately, that was as far into the topic as the text had gone. The book that it referenced was itself only referencing _another_ book, and one that Hermione couldn’t find within the massive Hogwarts Library, nor in any Owl-Order directory for any of the bookshops within the country.

**_“Oh, cheer up. Least we’ve found something, right? Maybe we’ll happen upon it when we’re home for the holidays. That’d be a lovely Yuletide gift, don’t you think? Get you out of my body so I can go on living my life.”_ **

Hermione mentally swatted at the intrusive voice and settled herself deeper into the pillows crowning her bed. The work that was spread out before her was only really there for performance sake; she had stopped reading anything long ago, and simply fell back into thoughts and wishes interspersed with a few imaginary scenarios that Narcissa wished to show her.

Bellatrix would come by sometime soon, and knock gently upon her door before beginning to dismantle the layering of charms that Hermione had heaped atop of it. She wondered if this version of her defences - _bolstered by a few tweaks she’d learned in their advanced study group_ \- would take one minute or two for Bellatrix to push through. The witch was skilled at breaking into things, a genuine genius when the material consisted of something that she was interested in. Participating in this odd game had been played off as extra credit, Hermione telling Bellatrix that it held no real reason in particular. That wasn’t much of a lie as it turned out; Hermione had gotten accustomed to Bellatrix’s visitations and slowly, carefully, she’d begun to relish them. She had half a mind as to believe that Bellatrix only put up with it because she enjoyed the thrill of it as well; she could very well be caught out just sitting there, crouched before the door, her wand out and nightclothes too thin for decency.

 _Snap,_ came the sound of the lock finally being cracked open, and Hermione wordlessly lifted up everything on the bed before turning it back towards the table at the far end of the room. Bellatrix pushed herself through not even a moment later, her long hair let down and eyes dark as she approached. Nothing was said between them, but Hermione still found herself blushing red, heat pouring down from her face and neck, flowing down her chest to collect at her core. 

She was ready for this, _eager_ for this.

Hermione reached up for Bellatrix and pulled the girl down atop of her, scooting backwards on the covers until she was pressed back against the headboard, her arms hanging limply around Bellatrix’s neck.

“You have a rough day?” Bellatrix asked her, the words muffled as she moved to kiss Hermione’s neck.

Hermione grinned up at her and sank back further. “No more than usual, I suppose. Though, I did find some interesting texts deep within the library. Andromeda, however, is still avoiding me.”

“Same,” Bellatrix replied in the same breath as a kiss, laying her body completely atop of Hermione and letting her hands wander under the thin, satin cloth of a black nightdress. “She’ll come around though, I mean it. We just have to give her time and patience. I say we ramp it up towards Samhain, see if we can ruffle her feathers a mite bit.”

“Oh?” Hermione asked.

“Yes,” Bellatrix answered, her lips tracing lines across Hermione’s skin, tongue tracing the gentle curves of Narcissa’s neck and the sharp hint of her cheeks. “But I promise we can talk about that later, alright? This weekend, if you wouldn’t mind it.”

“I don’t,” Hermione answered, sinking down into the sublime rhythm of the madness she’d fallen into. 

\---

Hermione awoke, startled and confused, her mind abuzz with something like lightning and her eyes peering off into madness. There were no colours around her, but there were _things_ and _shapes;_ there was the impression of a room surrounding her, and the body curled against her side. She rose up from within herself, higher and higher, blanketing where she lay and the sleeping beauty beside her. Her arms were stretched, stretching, pulling away until she grasped that _she had no arms._ She lacked form, function, physicality or motion. She lacked _eyes_ with which to notice, lacked a _body_ with which to feel. She rolled over, floating, and sensed Bellatrix beside her. With a wisp of emotion she reached out with that nothing, touched and caressed the sleeping witch. She wasn’t entirely sure if this was a dream or not, but erred on the side of lucidness. It felt right, somewhat warm, and just a little bit like danger. She sank down upon that pale skin, seeped into the muscles and bones, found herself _stretching_ as she was, unbroken, snapping back.

\---

Blue eyes opened up, and deep within them, a honey amber curled.

_“What was that?”_


End file.
